


Compression

by Calamityjim



Series: Liminal Spaces [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, BECAUSE THATS HOW I ROLL!, Dimension Travel, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, References to Depression, Tim Drake Angst, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake-centric, Time Travel, it's canon, there are also way more characters but it won't let me tag them because they all have the same name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21738820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calamityjim/pseuds/Calamityjim
Summary: Tim may have moved forward with his life, but both his past and his future have problems with the direction he's taking.
Series: Liminal Spaces [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1414078
Comments: 786
Kudos: 2923





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! I'm back! I also have a plan. I very much have a plan. But I also now spend 2 hours a day commuting in a country where it is too cold to type on my phone, so expect updates to actually be slow and irregular. 
> 
> I'm going to just give a list of possible triggers in this story and consider them Dead Dove Do Not Eat.
> 
> -Recovery from attempted rape  
> -non consensual drug use  
> -medication  
> -anxiety/depression  
> -references to medications  
> -canon typical violence

Tim wasn't sure how this happened.

It had started with him innocently getting a cup of coffee. That much was clear. He’d gone to the kitchen, brewed himself a pot, and poured his favorite blend into his favorite mug and all had been right with the world. 

After that there were impressions, of Dick all sound and motion, of Dami, a small thundercloud of rage, and of Jay radiating smugness. It may have been mentioned that Tim had never been trick-or-treating. Tim wasn’t sure. The only thing he knew was that, somehow, what had happened in those lost moments had led to this. 

“It’s okay, I guess,” pouted Dick, giving Tim the once over. “But you really could have picked something a lot cuter.”

“Or I could have not agreed to this farce at all,” came Dami’s snide reply as he descended the staircase, “as would have been both my and Timothy’s preference.”

Tim and Jay were dressed to match Dami, wearing the darks of a ninja assassin, full cowl with the hints of weapons peeking from the fabric folds. When Dick had discovered that Dami had never gone trick-or-treating he had mounted a campaign to change that and while Dami had Bruce’s stubbornness, Bruce had also allowed a nine year old Dick to badger him into letting him be his crime fighting partner. Dick's technique had only improved since then and he had relentlessly chipped away until the Dami had finally agreed to get Dick off of his case. 

But somehow something had happened in the kitchen and now Tim was here too, a pillow case in hand because Jay had been determined to be the acting adult so both Dami and Tim could enjoy their first time trick-or-treating. 

“I’m sixteen,” Tim whispered in a daze. “I’m too old to be trick-or-treating.”  
  


“Father is a billionaire.” Dami said, scorn dripping from his voice like wax sliding down a candle. “He could purchase an entire candy company. I do not understand why we must lower ourselves to begging from strangers.”

“It’s fun,” chirped Dick. 

“It’s _Halloween_ ,” Tim stressed. “It’s the rogue’s favorite holiday. I should be helping-”

“No!” echoed all three voices.

Tim raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Sheesh.” 

It was not okay. Since the Incident with Zatanna everyone had been treating Tim like he was a small child in need of an adult. Everytime Tim went to follow up on a chore, Jay had done it for him. Dami kept fetching him food and following him around to make sure he ate it. He couldn’t get within seeing distance of Dick without being drawn into a hug, as though he needed comfort or something. Bruce seemed to constantly be in the same room as Tim, as though he couldn’t trust Tim not to hurt himself. It was frustrating that they were coddling him, like he was fragile. Tim hadn’t needed other people to take care of him when he was a child. He certainly didn’t need it now. 

He was ready for patrol. He was ready to finally be useful again and no one was letting him. Tim couldn’t decide if he wanted to scream at the sky or curl himself into a corner and sob. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if Dick had told Bruce about the moment with the Red Hood, if that lapse was now the standard on which they all judged him. Maybe they were all watching to make sure he didn’t try to off himself again. He wasn’t going to try.

He just… needed to be useful. His parents had always appreciated when he could tell them bits of gossip from the galas that big mouthed business rivals dropped in front of little ears and sometimes his Mother would take the time to tell him a story as a reward. Always one from her youth or about work because Tim had never needed the fairytales used to entertain children. Other Bruce had let him stay in the Manor when he was working a case, and sometimes the corners of his mouth had twitched when Tim had solved a lead. 

  
It had been solid, grounded. What Tim deserved. As long as he was useful people would keep liking him and Tim didn’t want to admit out loud how used to having these people like him he had gotten. He should be out on the streets with Batman, not roped into doing childish things. 

Dami shared look with Dick, who shared a look with Jay, which ended up with all three of them staring at Tim before looking at eachother once more. It wasn’t unlike being the centre of attention while also being the only member of the Team not linked by telepathy, except that Tim knew that there was no one acting as a mental bridge for communication, which made the exchange downright creepy. 

“Fine,” Dami scoffed. “Is it time to leave yet? The sooner we begin the sooner we can be finished with this childish nonsense.” 

“Almost,” Dick said with a broad smile. Held up his phone and all three of his brothers groaned. “I promised Bruce photos!”

WIth a defeated sigh Tim scooted until he was sandwiched between Jay and Dami wearing his best camera smile. Bruce had already started his patrol, chasing down whispers of the Calendar Man making a move, and as soon as he dropped them off at the East End, where Jay insisted the best candy was, Nightwing would be hitting the streets with Batgirl, watching for a suspiciously silent Scarecrow.

Dick sighed. “A real smile, Tim. You are wearing your pod person persona.”

Tim scowled. “It’s posh, not ‘pod- oh my god Jay stop!”

“No!” cackled Jay, burying his fingers into the thick material so he could tickle Tim’s sides. Tim twisted, trying to find relief as he held back giggles but Dami, the traitor, grabbed his hips to hold him in place. 

The was the rough click of a cell phone camera. 

“Good job team,” Dick held up his thumb. “I’ll send you all a copy.”  
  


Tim scowled and shrugged himself out of Jay’s grip. “You guys are all assholes.”

Jay wrapped his arms around Tim’s shoulder. “But you love us.”

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Five blocks in and the only thing Tim loved was coffee, and even then it might have been conspiring against him. His heart heart was slamming in his chest and his skin was positively crawling. Paranoia was pulsing through his veins and Tim’s hands twitched with the need for a weapon. He had his bo staff tucked into the folds of his costume but he would feel far more comfortable with it in his hands. 

Trick-or-treating was awful. Everyone around Tim was wearing costumes that disguised their faces, their bodies, their _intentions_. They could be Joker goons or Scarecrow cronies and Tim wouldn’t be able to tell until it was far too late. There was a strange rhythm to the whole process so Tim couldn’t tell if the group of people behind him was following them or if it just happened to be the way things went. A rogue could attack at any minute. On top of that Jay kept telling everyone that Tim was a tall thirteen year old on his last trick-or-treating run and people kept believing him. Yes, it seemed to be netting Tim more candy but Tim didn’t actually _like_ candy. He didn’t like trick-or-treating. He didn’t like people thinking he was just some dumb kid. 

“Jesus, Tim. Relax. You’re starting to make me feel twitchy.” Jay actually sounded a little concerned. He followed Tim’s gaze to the group of ninjas who were still behind them. “It’s a popular costume this year. There must have been a movie or game or something. Chill.”

“They’ve been behind us for two blocks,” Tim muttered, making sure his cowl was up to cover his lips. 

“And they’ll probably be behind us all night. Halloween is about efficiency and wandering off to make sure that your twitchy ass feels more comfortable doesn’t follow that plan.”Jay raised his arms, putting his hands behind his neck as he walked. “Your universe messed you up bad.”

“If Timothy is not enjoying himself then perhaps we should head home,” Dami offered sounding a little desperate. 

Jay groaned. “Not you too. Halloween is fun, guys. Fun. You do know what that is, right?”

“She made me sing, Todd,” Dami hissed. “Sing. Like a dog yowling for a treat. Both sides of my lineage have been shamed.”

“Heh,” Jay chuckled. “That was great. I took a video.”

“The group of ninjas on the other side of the street is also keeping pace with us,” Tim observed dispassionately. “There is also now a group ahead of us that emerged from around the block. Real ninjas.” 

Jay sighed. “I think you are more like Bruce than Bruce is.”

“I think you are a fool,” Dami said, pitching his voice low. “Timothy is correct in his observations.”

Jay dropped his hands to his sides as his eyes became sharp, evaluating. “Fuck,” he whispered, his eyes straying to the rooftops of the nearest houses where shapes a little to dark to be shadows were lingering on the roof. “Dammit Tim.”

“How is this my fault?!” Tim hissed. “I said I didn’t want to do this.”

“It’s because you talk about your crappy childhood like its perfectly fucking normal.”

“One, my childhood was perfectly fine and two, your childhood was crappy too.”

“Yeah,” Jay said with a bit of heat, “and I can fucking admit it was messed up. You can’t seem to get it through your head that whatever your parents did to you was fucked up, that it fucked you up. If you could admit that Dick would stop trying to force feed you normal experiences.”

“Quit being an imbecile, Todd.” Dami’s voice splashed through the conversation like acid. “We are slowly being surrounded by ninjas in a public venue. Now is not the time to be explicit about our feelings.”

Tim scanned the growing darkness. The enemy was no longer even trying for subtle now. 

"We need to take this away from civilians," Tim said, scanning his surroundings. 

"Yeah," Jay agreed. "I say we jump the fence if the yellow house and book it for the alley. Get out of the burbs." He raised a hand to his ear. "B, come in." Tim waited a few seconds, wondering how annoyed Bruce was about the interruption. "Shit." Very? "Comms are down. We're on our own." Jay looked grim.

"Okay," Tim took a deep breath. "Count of three?"

Jay nodded. "Aaaaaand three!"

Tim dropped his pillowcase and dashed towards the fence, being careful to stay a step behind Dami, who had yet to relinquish his spoils for the evening. Jay was keeping pace Tim so that they were in each other’s peripheral, making sure that if something happened to one the other would know. 

They cleared the fence with ease but as they ran through the yard Tim could hear their pursuers dropping onto the grass, their steps as light as rain, and Tim knew beyond any shadow of a doubt whose people these were. Jay did too. The other boy put on a burst of speed, scooping up Dami and ignoring his squak of indignation. Dami was fast for someone of his height but the key phrase was "someone of his height." That wasn’t going to be fast enough. There was a good chance that even Tim and Jay, with the extra length in their legs, weren’t going to be fast enough. 

“B, B come in!” Jay tried the comms again as Tim cast a quick glance behind him. Ninjas flicked in and out of shadows, creating the illusion of a writhing mass. Even in the seconds of Tim’s glance, he could see more emerge, from the tops of houses, from behind bushes and over fences, adding to the numbers chasing them. Even Tim had been in his gear, even Jay had been the Red Hood and Dami had been a homicidal robin, they would have been overpowered by sheer numbers alone. 

No doubt Ra’s intention. 

They had no back up, no means of calling for help, and Ra’s seemed to have infinite people that were hidden all across the city. Every turn they took yielded more enemies, who weren’t even bothering to hide. Eventually he and Jay would tire, but Ra’s would have a fresh wave ready to chase them down. Given how Tim’s last interaction with Ra’s had gone he had no doubt that another meeting would prove painful for Tim if he wasn’t executed on the spot. He had no idea what the Ra’s would do with Jay and Dami. 

A surge of ninjas cut through traffic, jumping over cars and as people honked at the interference and cheered at the perceived flash mob. The force cut them off, herding the trio into an alley. Not good but there was no option. It was a dead end, but there was a door nestled in the shadows that Jay wasted no time in kicking down. They were only two steps in when ninjas dropped from the dilapidated ceiling, surrounding them. 

Jay dropped Dami, who rolled to his feet, two wicked looking knives in hand. His pillow case landed on the rotting floor with a thump, candy spilling out. Tim drew his bo even as guilt ate away at him. Him and his arrogance had fucked everything up. Tonight was supposed to have been fun, innocent. Dami’s first Halloween.

Not this. 

They drew against each other, back to back to back in the hopes that maybe the could keep each other safe. It was futile, Tim knew. They were viciously outnumbered and, without their armor and their gadgets, outgunned. Tim wasn’t going to be leaving this place under his own power, but maybe he could cut a path through for Jay and Dami.

But the ninjas didn’t attack. They stood at the ready, waiting, and Tim's insides chilled. He wasn't surprised when they parted to let Ra's Al Ghul step into the circle.

"Grandson," the man said with a level of affection that Tim had thought beyond him, even to fake.

Dami lifted his chin. "Grandfather." Dami's voice could have frozen water.

Ra's eyes skimmed over Dami with lazy disinterest. "Do be quiet, Damian. I'm speaking with your brother."

If he survived this Tim was going to kill Bruce. Slowly.

"Ra's," he greeted cooly, calmly. Jay took a small step closer to Tim, an action no one missed. 

Ra's, though, chose not to comment. He smiled warmly, with a pleased air. It reminded Tim of the proud parents who bragged about their kids at the soirees. "When you promised to provide me with a mystery I had thought you would be a passing interest, a puzzle to be leisurely solved and then tossed away." Ra's shook his head. "Instead you kept your secrets while turning mine against me. It was quite rude." Jay took another sliding step, placing himself a little more between Tim and Ra’s. Under other circumstances the movement would have even been considered subtle. 

"Fortunately," Ra's waved his hand as though he could brush the past away, "manners will be one of the many things I will teach you as you claim your heritage."

Tim snorted. “You aren’t stupid, Ra’s. You know I’m not related to you.”  
  
Ra’s gave his head a slight tilt to the side before straightening, which Tim took to be the man’s version of a shrug. “The Detective gave me the opportunity to claim you as my own and I am not one to refuse a favorable offer.”

“Timothy is mine,” Dami hissed like an arching cat. 

Ra’s stared down at the small boy, raising an eyebrow. “Mind your tone. I have no need for a second heir.”

Dami flinched. 

Jay took half a step forward and opened his mouth to snarl something that would probably get them all killed so Tim poked him behind the knee with his bo staff, distracting him from bringing an army of ninjas down upon them all. While Jay struggled with his balance, Tim took the opportunity to speak. “So what’s the plan? You already know how far Bruce is willing to keep us safe and having to deal with Superman poking his head into your business would be a waste of resources.” His voice was far steadier than he felt. 

“Those are problems for me to worry about, Grandson.” Ra’s gave a dismissively flick of his hand. “All you need to do is come quietly so we can find a place more appropriate to discuss your integration into the family.”

“He’s not your family,” Jay snarled, drawing a knife from his sleeve. 

Ra’s ignored him, his eyes only for Tim. “What do you say, Grandson? Will you act with wisdom?”

“I’ll go with you of my own free will if you let them go, alive and unharmed,” Tim said without a moment of hesitation. He knew the odds. 

“Oh bull-fucking-shit you will,” Jay growled as Dami squawked.

Ra’s tilted his head again, his eyes cold as stone as they analyzed Tim. "You are in no position to negotiate."

Tim let a whisp of a smile blow across his lips. "I'm in the perfect place to negotiate." With one hand he swept his bo staff into Jason's knees, the angle of the hit tipping the boy backward. As Jason flailed for balance Tim plucked the knife out of his hand and had it pressed into his own jugular, deep enough that a trickle of blood ran down the blade.

Ra's sighed in disappointment. "So self-sacrificing. Something you no doubt learned from the Detective. Another nasty habit I will break you of." Ra's snapped his fingers and Tim felt something bite into his shoulder, the point of contact almost immediately blossoming into an ice that rapidly crawled up his arm, causing the knife to clatter uselessly to the floor. Another dart slammed into his lower back and Tim crumpled, his senses fading as his world was overtaken by the frost under his skin. 

The last thing he heard before the world faded away was the sound of fighting and Dami's pained scream.

X-X-X-X-X

Cave? Check. 

Silk sheets? Check.

Feeling like his ass had been thoroughly kicked? Check.

While those were all the hallmarks of waking up to Ra’s hospitality, being changed into robes while unconscious was new and definitely and vomit inducing. Tim shivered, his mind shying away from the Paris Catacombs, the way he’d felt as Ra’s Al Ghul’s sister slowly started to tug his zipper down even as he ran his hands over himself tentatively, looking for evidence that more had happened than a costume swap. He felt okay. Would he feel any different if something had happened?

Tim shook his head. Nothing happened. It was fine. There had been a very specific set of events that had led to Paris and nothing even close had occurred in this universe and while Ra’s may be sporting an obsession with Tim, again, the fact that he was currently coming at it from a familial angle should provide Tim with a little bit of a buffer for now. 

Hopefully.

Whatever. Tim could freak out about it later. Not that he needed to because nothing had happened.

At least, not to him. God, where we Dami and Jay?! He’d heard Dami scream.

Tim rolled from the bed, staggering to his feet as his body reacted slowly, like it needed a few seconds to buffer before it could move ahead a scene. With every lurching step he was assaulted by the soft chime of bells. 

  
Tim side as he looked down to fully take in his new outfit. He was dressed in deep blues with puffy pants that gathered tightly above his bare ankles. His shirt was detailed with a silk brocade of gold that reminded him of the eyes on peacock feathers, and the collar was buttoned to just below his adam’s apple. He was draped in a green and navy kaftan that was hemmed in gold and bells, a clear warning that Ra’s was not going to tolerate the games Tim had played with his people last time. 

“Shit,” Tim slurred, immediately trying to pull off the robe with his clumsy fingers. The garment jingled obnoxiously as he tugged at it. The thing was cinched at the waist with a gold belt held in place with a pin. He fumbled with the pin, hissing as he discerned it’s true nature. It was a lock. A fucking lock. Ra’s Al Ghul had practically sewn Tim into his clothes. 

“Bastard,” Tim said, tugging uselessly at the lock. It was weird how jarring that little piece of metal was, but it felt like a layer of Tim’s dignity had been peeled away. He wasn’t in control here. He couldn’t even take off a fucking robe. The lock was a demonstration of Ra’s control and it was as jarring as it was undeniable. 

The door opened and Z stepped in, framed by Pru and Owens. “Nice to see you again, kid,” Z said in a tone that implied that no, it was not nice to see Tim again. The feeling was mutual. “Ra’s wanted to see you as soon as you were awake.” Of course he did. “And he gave me permission to stab you in your thigh if you fucking try anything.” Tim swayed on his feet and Z seemed to take it as some kind of promise of compliance. “Let’s go.”

Tim took an unsteady step, listing sideways. “Fuck,” Z said as he reached out to grab Tim roughly by the arm. “They’ve got you doped up good.” He slipped behind Tim, putting his hands on both of the boy’s shoulders and began to use them to steer the boy. “Considering all the shit you put us through last time, I’m surprised drugs were the only thing they pumped you full of.” 

Tim only grunted as he was pushed out the door. “Shoes?” 

Pru openly laughed at him. “Kid, you’re barely allowed to have feet.” Assholes.

Tim expected the runaround, to be led in long loops passed the training arena so Tim could see just how hopeless escape truly was, not that he could currently walk in a straight line without help. Instead he was herded down a straight hallway that ended at a flight of steep stairs. Tim made it down exactly one before Z decided that taking the stairs ten minutes per step wasn’t a great idea and just threw Tim over his shoulder. When they made it to the bottom Z didn’t bother to set Tim down, which made the boy sigh. 

He was absolutely useless in this condition. 

Pru and Z chatted as they carried Tim down the hall, Owens humming in agreement here and there. The conversation washed over Tim as he concentrated on flexing his fingers, trying to measure if his reaction time was improving at a measurable speed. His mind was working fine, his thoughts as clear as ever, but the disconnect between the mental and the physical was maddening. He could think of plan after plan and couldn’t act on any of them because he could barely wiggle his fucking fingers. 

Z came to a sudden stop. “Here we are,” he announced, and Tim felt Pru and Owens hook their hands into his armpits, lifting him off of Z and plunking him down onto his own feet. Owens grabbed him by the back of his neck when Tim’s knees threatened to buckle. 

He couldn’t offer any resistance as they pushed him into the room. 

The first thing that hit Tim was the smell. Sour, sweet, and metallic. It was like fruit that had rotted away in a sealed container, fermenting in its own juice and then spilled over a pile of blood. It was the distinctive scent of a Lazarus Pit and made Tim feel nauseous for more than just the smell. On the far side of the pit stood Ra’s, hands in front and tucked into his sleeve as he dispassionately stared at the acid green green liquid. He was flanked by an assassin on either side, their swords resting against the necks of Jay and Dami.

Tim took in a shuddering breath. Alive. They were both alive. Gagged with their hands bound behind their backs, and Jay’s face was bruised to shit, but they were breathing. Tim could work with breathing. 

Z tapped the back of Tim’s knee with his heel and the boy fell, landing on his hands. The commotion drew Ra’s gaze. 

“Grandson.” He gave the barest incline of his head. “I’m pleased to see you are finally awake.” Tim lifted his head enough that he could glare at the supervillain. Ra’s sighed, like a put upon parent. “It’s a shame that the Detective found you first. Bad manners are easier to prevent than they are to correct.”

“What do you want?” Tim’s voice was unsteady from his throat, his words stilted as his tongue stumbled against itself. 

“Only for us to be a family,” Ra’s said, as though that was a simple thing. "You have so much potential that Bruce will no doubt squander on his foolish crusade, whereas I can craft you to be the perfect heir and together the world will tremble at our every step."

"Not… interested."

Ra's laughed. "This isn't an offer you can decline, Grandson." 

Dami hissed in pain as his assassin moved, the blade slicing into Dami's flesh. The black of his costume hid the color, but Tim could see the growing wet patch along his shoulder. 

"Your terms?" Tim ground out, his eyes glued to Dami. 

"I recognize that your ill behavior is based on how you were raised and is therefore not your fault, but that doesn't change that I need to break you of those habits.” Ra’s pulled a hand from his sleeve and studied his nails for imperfections. Satisfied with what he saw, his gaze snapped back to Tim. 

“I will use any means necessary to do so." Tim felt the hairs on the back of his neck crawl their way to his scalp as Ra's pinned him with a merciless stare. "You will carry your own weight to the Lazarus Pit even if you have to crawl to get there." Dami and Jay burst into muffled shouts, the flat side of a sword slapping across Jay's face as he tried to rise to his feet. His assassin wound his hands into the cloth at the base of Jay's neck, twisting the fabric and pulling back until Jay made a gagging noise. 

Tim drew in a shuddering breath, his fingers curling against the stone floor. He couldn't move fast enough to do anything useful, could barely walk. He was scared, scared in a way he hadn't been since he thought he'd take the evidence of Other Bruce being alive to his grave, that he'd get Tam killed. Unless Batman descended from the ceiling in a flurry of cape, Tim was going to lose this round.

"I comply. Both live." Tim tried to make his voice strong even though the words were like sand through his fingers. 

Ra's raised an eyebrow. "After your atrocious behavior? You destroyed my bases, Grandson. Such an act must be punished."

"No!" Tim didn't even make it halfway to his feet before a firm hand had him on his knees again.

"I'm not entirely without mercy, Timothy. You may choose the pet you keep." Oh god. No. He couldn't play this game, couldn't pick one to die. Ra's must have read it in his face because the man sighed in disappointment. "Sentimentality is a useless emotion and you will thank me once I strip it from you. I will give you a few hours to decide on your pet, and if you cannot choose I will make the decision for you. Be warned, if you chose I promise his death will be quick, painless. However, if you make me decide then I will take my time and you will watch every second." Bile bit at the back of Tim's throat. 

By some unspoken signal, hands wrapped themselves around Tim's limbs, pulling him away from Dami and Jay. He strained forward like a bug trying to break from a spider's web. Z snorted and flipped Tim onto his shoulder once again, carrying him out of the room.

The journey back to his room felt shorter, either because they'd moved him to a closer location or because Tim's mind was sparking like a fritzed computer. He had no idea what to do. He never had no idea what to do. His breathing was fast and shallow and the corner of his eyes burned. 

The drug. It had to wear off sometime. All he needed to do was wait. Fake the effects until he could act. It was weak but better than nothing, a small light of hope in this bleak situation.

He was tossed into the bed, Owens' strong hands pinning an arm into place. Tim didn't see so much as feel the needle slide into his arm. "No," he hissed, feeling the pressure in his muscle build as something was injected into his body. 

Z snorted. "Oh yes. You are slipperier than an eel." He pulled the needle out. "It's the same shit you're already on; won't affect your thinking at all." There was a click as he placed a safety cap over the end. "It’ll wear off by tomorrow."

Tim couldn't stop the keening noise that escaped from his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's not sure if he's a worse person that Ra's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is *creepy*.

Each second that ticked by was like a cut across Tim's skin. He didn't know how long it had been, didn't know how long Ra's intended to drag this out. The old bastard had been vague on the timeframe to play on Tim's anxiety and it was fucking working. With every breath Tim’s stuttering heart beat that much harder. Any moment someone could come in and restart this horror show, drag Tim back down to the hell Ra’s had constructed for him. 

He tugged his hands uselessly.

It had taken time, time Tim didn’t have, to roll off the bed and crawl his way to the door, arms shaking with every inch. He made it to the door and climbed his way up to the knob. It was only a few feet off the floor but it had felt like scaling a mountain while drunk after going three rounds with Bane. Tim had pulled the door open only to flop at Z’s feet. 

No one had kicked him, which he’d half expected. They’d done worse and had just laughed, chuckled over his coltish movements, and dragged him back to the bed. Owens had used a fucking slip knot to bind Tim’s wrists together and then to the bed and Tim couldn’t escape it because of the stupid drug. He was helpless. He was helpless and everyone knew it and Jay and Dami were going to die and it was all Tim’s fucking fault. He’d had to go after Ra’s in a big way, had to get on the man’s radar, when he could have just snuck out under his nose. Tim and his stupid fucking ego. 

He heard a noise outside his door and his breath stopped. No! No no no no no. He didn’t have a plan. He wasn’t ready! He wasn’t strong enough to handle what was coming. He didn’t want either of them to die! And Bruce, Bruce would never get over it. To lose Dami, his only blood son. To lose Jay again, so soon after getting him back. Tim was going to do that to Bruce. 

It would have been better if Dick had let the Red Hood shoot Tim. 

He gasped, his chest burning. The noise outside the door grew before breaking into silence. There was the gentle tap of a hand on the door. It creaked as it was pulled open. 

“Tim!” 

Conner? 

Oh thank god it was Conner. 

“Dude, what are you wearing?”

Bart!

Conner grabbed the rope holding Tim and inspected it with just a frown. “This is just a slip knot.”  
  
“Nooooo ssssshit.” 

“Ah,” Conner said as he snapped the rope holding Tim’s hands. “Drugs.” He lifted Tim into a sitting position. “Can you stand?” 

Tim huffed in scorn. “That sounds like a no,” Bart said, leaning against the shut door. In response Conner scooped Tim up like he weighed nothing, slinging him over his hip the way one would a toddler. Tim's head flopped onto Conner's shoulder and he managed to bring an arm to loosely circle the boy's neck.  
  


“Any pain? Are you feeling sick?” Conner questioned. There was a list of things that needed to be ran through when a Team member was dosed with something unknown, but they really didn’t have time for a field diagnosis. 

  
“Paralytic. Handle later. Gotta find, Little D. Rob. Danger.” Tim mumbled, the sentence taking an eternity to complete. His mouth was still struggling with the basics of talking. 

“We’ll find them,” Bart promised. “We just need to find a guy and beat it out of him. Let’s go see if any of your friendly guard people can be shaken awake.” He opened the door and made it half a step out before it slammed in his face. “Faaaac!” Bart yelled as zoomed back behind Conner, glaring at the door.

“Impulse?!” Jay peeked through the doorway, eyebrows high. “Superboy! And Tim!” He stepped into full view, dragging Dami with him. Both of them look frayed at the edges, though a bandage had been wrapped around Dami’s shoulder and Jay didn’t seem to have acquired any new bruises to his face. “You are my favorite people!”

Bart frowned suspiciously. “I thought Wonderwoman and Nightwing were your favorite people?”

Jay snorted. “I don’t see them here saving our asses.”

“They are not saving us,” Dami hissed. “We were breaking free on our own.”

“And I suppose that we are just going to walk down the mountain and your psycho grandfather won’t send anyone after us.”  
  
Dami sniffed. “I suppose if the Clone and the Interloper choose to accompany us they will be tolerated as long as they stay out of our way. But you are carrying Timothy.”

Jay started at Dami in bafflement. “Superboy has literal super strength. He’s carrying Tim.”

“He’s sullying Tim!”

“Dudes!” Bart cut in. “Not the time. Rescue now, weird arguments later.”

“We are escaping!” Dami spat the words. 

Tim could see that there were a million retorts on Bart's tongue, but it was Conner who spoke. "Fine. We are escorting you as you escape under your own power. Sphere is waiting outside for us so let's move." Bart crossed his arms. That was apparently not what he was going to say. 

As they made their way down the halls, Jay risked a whispered conversation. "How'd you find us so fast?"

"Batman got your phone call and called in the League again. We're still on Team Gamma for the Light Incident and this was the last place anyone thought you'd be," Conner whispered back.

Jay's lips drew tight. "I didn't call Batman."

"Tt. I did."

"You don't have a phone."

Dami rolled his eyes. "I used yours."

"I didn't see it!"

Dami rolled his eyes harder. "That was the point. I hid it in the candy sack. If Grandfather had seen it he would have destroyed it and Batman would have retrieved no information of value. Unless you thought I held onto the bag because I was prioritizing shoddy sweets over Timothy's wellbeing?" The last statement was a dare.

"Good," Tim praised in a slur, too drugged to remind everyone that they were supposed to be escaping now and could debrief when they weren't in the base of one of the most dangerous villains Tim had ever met. Given that they'd encountered no one during their big escape, Tim was beginning to feel unnerved. "Ninjas?"

"Yes, we were kidnapped by ninjas," Jay answered, making Tim really want to kick his ass.

"Tim's got a point." Bart frowned in consideration. "Where is everyone? Like, we snuck in but there were actually people we had to sneak past."

"Lunch break?" Conner offered, though it was obviously he put no stock in his own suggestion.

"Trap," Tim mumbled.

Bart clicked his tongue. "You are such a pessimist. Brb, yo." He blurred around the edges, blinking out and back in before Tim's brain could process the change. "Hallway remains clear all the way to the exit. If it is a trap I say we run and at least get it over with quickly."

"Sorry," Conner said as he adjusted Tim, settling Tim over his shoulder. All Tim could see was Conner's back and he bounced as the Kryptonian took to jogging. Despite the noise they were making, there was a distinct lack of clamor as they raced down the hall. Bart was right. There was no one to impede their progress and they made it to the door with ease. 

Jay pushed it open. “Well, that’s fucking freaky.” On the other side of the door stood a swirling vortex through which they could glimpse the dingy inside of a derelict warehouse. The hole in space was large enough that even the tallest hero could have walked through it with ease. “Ideas? Anyone?”

“I say we walk around,” Bart offered.

Dami scoffed. “Unlike you, the rest of us have enough intelligence to not walk into a portal."

"Walking will not be required." The group turned around. Behind them Superman floated slightly above the floor, starting at them with an intensity that buried itself into the gut and twisted like a hook. Something was both wrong and familiar, but hanging off of Conner's shoulder Tim couldn't see to study the problem.

He heard the soft scuff as Superman dropped to his and then the ground was rushing towards Tim at frightening speed, his arms vibrating as they hit stone and snow. A pins and needles tingling sensation washed over Tim, the sensation of tactile telekinesis wrapping around him.

"We've been looking for you, Tim. No one can escape their destiny." Oh. Not Superman. Kon. Future Kon. Future evil Kon. Shit. Shit shit shit.

What the fuck was he even doing here? How?! That timeline should have ceased to be. Also. HOW??? Kon was fucking dead!

What! The! Fuck! 

“I will kill you, Imposter,” Dami spat, writhing against the invisible force holding him down. 

“See?” Future Evil Kon pointed at Dami with intensity. “He understands. We do what needs to be done. We’ve made the world a better place and you keep trying to take that from us. No more, Tim. You _will_ get with the program.” 

“My dude,” Bart said from where he lay on his back with the calm of someone who had just accepted that there would always be a certain amount of crazy in his life, “who are you?” Really? REALLY??? God Dammit, why were all versions of Future Tim useless? How had Tim as Batman with Guns never come up in a future where Tim was a member of a violent rebellion? It would have been really handy for him to have mentioned it!

“You didn’t tell them about me?” Future Evil Kon actually sounded hurt. “You run away, pick up these cheap imitations, and don’t even have the decency to keep my memory alive? I’m your best friend, and you just forget me? Move on like what we had didn’t matter?”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Jay muttered. A bit louder he went, “Tim’s been drugged, dibshit, and none of the rest of us know what’s going on. You spouting off about ‘destiny’ and your feelings is just awkward for everyone. You’re turning our escape into a goddamn episode of Dr. Phil.”

Future Evil Kon let out a pained sighed but offered no other verbal response. Instead the surface they were glued to started to creak and rumbled, vibrating as it tilted in the direction of the vortex. Future Evil Kon walked over to it nonchalantly, placing a hand on the edge of the earthen plate before leveling the disc. He carried it like a waiter serving up kid superheroes for lunch and stepped into the portal.

There was a pressure that had nothing to do with telekinesis, the portal exerting its own g-force as they passed through. Unpleasant, but not painful and not unexpected. Going through a portal always felt like being squeezed. Tim theorized it had to do with breaking the inertia of what anchored someone in their time period and their dimension. 

Then they were through and Tim could instantly smell the warehouse, his lungs filling with the familiar scent of dust and chemicals. From what he could see they were in a large room, no windows and the ceiling low enough to hint at an upper level. Not a warehouse. Maybe a repurposed factory?

“Any complications?” The question was asked by a voice that cut through the room like a frigid breeze. Tim shouldn’t have been shaken, he’d started dealing with Batman’s lowest moments when he was a child, but it was the knowledge of who was speaking that caused his bones to tremble. 

That was Future Evil Tim’s voice. 

“You didn’t tell them about me!” Future Evil Kon growled. “They have no idea who I am!”

“Love,” that was Future Evil Cassie, “I’m sure there is a reason, but now isn’t the time.” 

“Yeah man,” chimed in Future Evil Bart. “We have a plan. But first, what are you wearing?” Tim felt a breeze and then a tug as Future Evil Bart’s hands lifted the edges of his robe, setting off the bells. “Mini you looks like he’s starring in a harem movie.”

“Bart!” snapped Future Evil M’gann as both Tims flinched. 

Don't think about Ra's. Don't think about Paris. Here and now.

There were five Evil Future Us's, two of whom should be dead, and they had gone to all of the effort of finding Tim in an alternate dimension to drag him back to this one. Why now? Why did they grab him today as opposed to when Bruce first grabbed Tim? What were they up to?

And what were they going to do with the others? As much as Tim was willing to fight to the bitter end, the current situation wouldn't allow for that. Jay and Dami weren't metas, with Jay being semi-retired and Dami half trained, they wouldn't last long against Teen Titans who had powers, a decade more of experience, and no compunctions about killing them. Conner was strong but the sheer variety of powers that Future Evil Kon had put him at a distinct disadvantage. Bart might have stood half a chance, Tim had never seen him in action, but he couldn't fight everyone off by himself. And Tim? Tim wouldn't be able to do more than twitch even if Future Evil Kon let up on the tactile telekinesis. 

There was a gush of air as Future Evil Bart zipped back, away from Tim. "Sorry man. Didn't realize wearing bells was a source of trauma." The apology was clunky and sincere and so very this universe's Bart. Dead Bart. How did he come from the future? 

Future Evil Tim didn't answer, instead marching closer to Tim. Future Evil Kon lowered the floating disc onto the floor, careful to keep one hand on the first. Future Evil Tim's boots crunched over the rocks and he wrapped his hands around Tim's wrists. "Kon?"

The buzz on Tim's skin vanished and Future Evil Tim gave a tug, dragging Tim off of Conner's shoulder until he was far enough off that he could be flipped into Future Evil Tim's arms.

Tim squirmed, trying to shake off the grip but thanks to Ra’s he could still barely twitch on his own. “Stop,” he tried to order. It came out as more of a whine. 

"Timothy!"

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Let go of him!"

The shouts echoed across throughout the space, utterly ignored as Future Evil Tim carried Tim through a through a thick metal door, cutting Tim off from the cries of his teammates, trapping them in a room with Future Evil Kon and Cassie. Tim himself was carried down a hall lined with more doors, the ghosts of labels the only way to tell them apart. Future Evil M'gann followed while Future Evil Bart led, opening another solid door near the end of the hallway. 

This room smelled like blood.

Tim tried to twist out of Future Evil Tim’s grip, but all he managed was a pathetic wiggle. It did nothing to prevent Future Evil Tim from tossing Tim onto a dingy cot, giving him a better view of the room. There were splatters of blood on the wall and floor nearest the cot, like someone had lain here and taken a beating. Not a fatal one. There wasn’t that much blood, but there was definitely enough for even an untrained eye to see that something unpleasant had happened here. An experienced eye would be able to see that it was layered, that multiple beatings had taken place and the blood had dried and been painted anew. 

There was a bucket behind the camera. Tim couldn’t see its contents. 

Future Evil Bart blurred and Tim’s hands were suddenly above his head, his hands in thick leather cuffs that chained to the twisted metal that acted as a headboard. Unnecessary given Tim's current state, which meant they were for aesthetic. 

Tim bit his tongue to keep from panicking. They couldn’t hurt him too badly. They wouldn’t risk Future Evil Tim that way. They needed him.

Future Evil Tim reached into the bucket and pulled out a bag of blood and Tim was liking this less and less every second. His future doppelganger carefully sliced the bag and spilled the blood onto his gauntlet. He then began to run his hand through Tim’s hair, starting low on the forehead and dragging his hand down to where his hair met the bed. He had a rhythm. 

Dip. Pet. Repeat.

Tim was officially freaking the fuck out.

“No.” 

Don’t. 

Stop it. 

“Don’t worry,” Future Evil Tim soothed, dribbling more blood into Tim’s hair along his temple, making sure to splash the bed. “The blood is all ours. When they find this room the DNA will all match.” 

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck. 

“Honestly, I’m doing you a favor. I know how much Ra’s freaks you out. I still have nightmares about Paris, about this Halloween, but they eased when he died. Speeding it along will make us suffer less in the long run.” Future Evil Tim shook the bag, spilling blood onto Tim’s clothes.

“What?” Tim gasped. He was missing things. Too much was happening too fast. He needed it to stop. He needed to be able to move. He just needed and whatever it was he wasn’t going to get it.

Future Evil Tim finished emptying the blood pack, flcking more on the walls and the bed. This was ridiculous and gruesome and Tim finally clued in. He snorted. They needed the Teen Titans to be okay with killing, so this was their big plan? Make it look like he’d been beaten? That was a daily occurrence as a member of the Teen Titans. Team members had died and no one had gone off the deep end and embarked on a quest of revenge. He and Cassie had handled it the worst, with a cult and cloning attempts, but that was a far step away from murder.

“Stupid plan,” Tim muttered. 

“We aren’t going to make them think that you’d simply been beaten to death,” said Future Evil Tim. Then he started to strategically tear at Tim’s clothes, exposing a shoulder here, a hip there. 

Tim squirmed, blinking quickly so tears didn’t form at the corners of his eyes. “Titan’s won’t.” Kill. They wouldn’t kill for this. They were better than that. They had to be better than that. 

Future Evil M’gann drew Tim’s attention as she shifted, her features bleeding into something sharper and more masculine as hair sprouted along her jaw. In only moments a perfect replica of Ra’s Al Ghul stood before Tim. He shivered, but lifted his chin. “Won’t believe.” They wouldn’t. Ra’s didn’t have that reputation and no one knew about Paris. And Ra’s wasn’t the type to hang out in shitty abandoned buildings. He was a classy monster. 

“I will,” said Future Evil M’gann in Ra’s voice. Tim shuddered. “Past me already knows about Paris.” 

No. No way. He hadn’t told a _soul._

“I worked a mission with Black Bat and we stumbled across a trafficking ring.” Future Evil Tim had taken to pinching exposed bits of skin, twisting them a little. Creating bruises. “There was a boy who reminded her of you. She wouldn’t stop thinking about it. It was like she was screaming it into my brain.” Future Evil M’gann adjusted her collar, staring off into space. “I never told anyone. You deserve better than that.” She snapped back to herself, her eyes going to Tim. 

No! No one was ever supposed to know! Tim felt raw, exposed, like someone was scrubbing his skin off to leave bleeding patches. This was too much. 

“But if I think this is the way you die?” M’gann continued. “By his hand?” She shook her head. “We started messing with him after you vanished. It wouldn’t be a stretch to think that he'd had you this entire time, that this was in revenge for what we did. Guilt is a powerful motivator and I would tell them about Paris. I’d have no choice. 

“And then we’d kill him.”

“And then the team will finally understand,” Future Evil Tim said gently. “They’ll known what it takes to keep the world safe. And you'll join them. It is inevitable. Our future will be preserved.”

Today was too much. 

Tim couldn’t stop the tears that fell from the corners of his eyes and he despised himself because he knew that they made this look all the more realistic. 

Future Evil Tim pulled a batarang and sliced up the side of one of Tim’s legs, shearing the fabric off and flipping it onto the opposite leg. He touched Tim’s thigh with his bloody hand, painting it red, before tugging down the robe, careful to preserve Tim’s modesty all the while making it look like it had been stolen from him. 

Future Evil Bart nodded. “Looking good. Well, horrific. But it will-” A sharp scream cut him off and Bart blurred out of the room, closely followed by M’gann. There was another agonized cry accompanied by a crack that Tim could hear a hallway away. He pulled again at his bonds, his fingers trying to work the clasps, even as his counterpart drew a gun and slowly opened the door. 

Future Evil M’gann, back in her preferred shape, flew through the room and disappeared through the wall fast enough that Tim almost missed it. A tan blur came phased through after and Bart paused long enough for his features to solidify before blurring out again. 

Future Evil Tim grunted and fired a shot, missing Bart entirely as he slid down the door frame, the end of a crowbar embedded in his leg. The gun in his hand dissolved into pieces and Bart reformed again.

His face was blank and deadly, like a blade that hadn’t yet seen blood, though given the splatters on his uniform that metaphor wasn’t accurate. “Let me make something very clear.” Rage rose in Bart’s voice like waves in the ocean, cutting into cliffs and leaving silt in their wake. “You are alive because I chose not to kill you, I chose not to kill any of you. You come at me and mine again and I promise you I will make a different choice.”

Future Evil Tim grinned. “See Tim? You’re surrounded by people who are so close to making the right decision and-”

Future Evil Tim’s gasp might was well have been a scream. Bart was holding the crowbar and it was vibrating in his hand. “Your talking privileges have been revoked. Now what you get to do is listen. Stay away. Or I will kill you.”

The only sound in the room was harsh breathing. 

The door creaked open and Jay popped in his head. “Impulse, is Tim…?” Tim could tell the exact moment Jay spotted him on the bed, the other boy’s face going grey. “You sick fuck!” Jay slammed a fist into Future Evil Tim’s head. Then another. And another. Future Evil Tim raised his hands to defend himself and Bart slammed his hand into the man’s gut. 

Future Evil Tim slumped over, unconscious. 

“Oh my god, Tim!” Jay stumbled across the room and Tim could see his eyes flitting to every bloody patch. 

Tim grunted. “Not mine.” He was pretty sure Jay didn’t hear him over his own swearing.

“Fuckity fuck. Impulse, can you get his hands free?” The cuffs binding Tim’s wrists vanished as quickly as they’d come. “I gotcha Tim.” With Bart’s help Tim was heaved onto Jay’s shoulder. Jay gave him two pats. “Little D and Superboy are outside waiting. It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay.” It sounded more like Jay was trying to reassure himself rather than Tim. Which was fair. This was Tim’s second interdimensional kidnapping.

They made their way through the hallway back to the room that had initially held them. Future Evil Bart lay on the floor, moaning and clutching his knee, the same knee that had been replaced after a gunshot from Deathstroke had shattered it like porcelain. Future Evil Kon lay gasping, a kryptonite knife half buried in Future Evil Kon’s shoulder while Future Evil Cassie was awake and struggling, a pipe embedded into her abdomen and the wall behind her. She glared as they walked by. “Stop being children,” she spat, a shuddering rippling through her as the movement caused her to shift against the pipe.

They didn’t dignify her with a response, walking through another hallway until they emerged outside the building into the harsh light of day. It felt like it should have been night. Too much had happened for it to still be day.

Conner picked up Jay around the waist, his hand grabbing Tim’s thigh as lifted Dami up like he weighed no more than a feral kitten. With no warning Conner jumped and Dami’s hissing and spitting became a startled shriek. Bart raced in the same direction, them meeting when Conner landed only for them to take off again and again. It didn’t end until they found themselves in the middle of a field, surrounded by nothing but corn stalks and the fading light of the evening. 

Conner gently lowered Jay and Dami to the ground before they lay Tim down, Conner pulling off his shirt to make a pillow for Tim’s head. 

“Well,” Bart said, standing akimbo, “that was fun.”

“Fun? FUN?” Jay yelled. “You fucking jackass! Look what they did to Tim! Holy fuck I might actually kill you!”

“They didn’t do much,” Conner said, placing his hand on Jay’s shoulder, though whether it was to comfort or restrain was up for debate. “It was mostly staged. He’s not bleeding.”

Tim nodded and was surprised to find that he could manage that with growing ease. “I’m not bleeding.” The words were mushed together but he was no longer fighting to get them out. “Just small bruises. Part of a stupid plot.”

“Fuck. Fuck!” Jay kicked at a clump of dirt that dissolved into dust. He fell to the ground, flopping onto his back to lay beside Tim as he covered his eyes with a hand. “Fuck.”

Dami sniffed. “Do not be so disheartened. We have won the day and it is only a matter of time before Batman finds us.”

The silence was heavy as everyone remembered that Dami was just a child. A vicious, murdery child but a child nonetheless. He hadn’t yet realized that Batman had no way of knowing that they were in an entirely different dimension and would, therefore, not be coming for them. Tim had possibly, had likely, ruined their lives.

“We need a place to regroup,” Conner said, ignoring Dami’s statement with the force of someone who doesn’t want to reveal that Santa doesn’t exist. “Tim’s still out of commission and I doubt you have anymore kryptonite.”

“Why did you even have a kryptonite knife?” Jay asked from the ground.

Dami scoffed. “I do not like the way the Clone looks at Timothy.” 

“What?” asked Conner blankly. “What did I do?”

Dami bared his teeth like an angry dog fending off the mailman. “You lured him into a plan where he deceived me with your blatant wanton eyes and placed Timothy in danger. He never would have challenged the Light without my aid if it wasn’t for you.”

Bart slowly started to scoot away from Dami, out of knife slashing distance, and shot Conner a pleading look. Conner was obviously undecided. Having Dami as an enemy was no small thing, especially when the blame belonged to someone else. 

“Wasn’t like that,” Tim grumbled. He. Wasn’t. Fragile. He could make his own damn decisions and people needed to quit thinking anyone led Tim anywhere. 

Jay pinched the bridge of his nose. “This sounds like a Dick problem. Dick will solve this.” There wouldn’t be a problem if people quit treating Tim like he was a doll to be protected instead of a real live vigilante he made his own damn decisions. He wasn’t helpless. 

Except when he was. God he needed to be able to move. 

“We need lodgings where we will go unnoticed, which will be especially difficult given as Robin and I are both still in costume and they covered Timothy in blood,” Dami snapped, ignoring the stir he’d created. 

Tim frowned, staring at the sky. “Bart? Where are we?” He had safe houses all over the country. Maybe they were near one…?

There was a whoosh. “Missouri.”

Tim blew out a breath. Nope. Nowhere close. San Francisco would have been ideal, as far from Gotham as he could get so he didn’t run into Other Bruce while they were dealing with this, but he still ran the risk of running into Cassie and they’d never really patched things up before Tim had vanished. And Tim would likely need the help of someone with magic to solve this. Rachel might be able to help, but Tim might also have to go to Constantine or Zatanna. And magic might not even work. 

Fuck, this was life at maximum difficulty and Dami was right. The first priority was somewhere safe and secret and close enough to get to. There was one spot that fit those requirements ...but…. 

Tim was a horrific person, but a horrific person who needed to keep his friends safe. “Kansas has a safe spot.”

Bart tilted his head and squatted in the dirt. “You mean the Kents?”

“The who?” Conner asked. 

Okay, Tim officially hated Superman. “Clark’s parents.”

“He has parents?” Conner asked incredulously. 

Tim officially hated Superman a lot. “Yeah. This universe they knew Kon. He died though. They’ll help but…” But Tim was going to drag a stranger wearing their dead grandson’s face to their home. He was going to do that to people for who family meant everything.

Conner’s shoulders slumped. Tim could see that he got it. That they were going to be weird about him. That Superman was still hiding him like a shameful secret. But they didn’t have a choice. 

“Fine. Whatever,” grumbled Conner, lifting Tim again. “What’s the address?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you all. 
> 
> I am a sucker for time travel/dimension travel and the Future Evil Titans are Cannon. *utter delight* I'm stuck on the next chapter (like really stuck) so I'm posting this in the hopes of getting unstuck. 
> 
> Thank you for all the comments. I live for them. I would love to but at this point cannot respond to all of them. I posted chapter 1 three days ago and have nearly fifty comments (WHICH IS AMAZING), so I think you all understand why I can't follow up with all of them.
> 
> And thank you for all the kudos. You are all amazing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim really needs a shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This continues in the same vein as the last few chapters so....

It was awkward with Conner carrying the three of them, Tim and Dami tucked under each arm with Jay riding piggyback. Bart buzzed along, scouting ahead and circling back to meet them at each of Conner’s landings. While it was certainly faster than driving, by the time Conner landed in the Kents' front yard the deep darkness of night had fully set, the stars shining overhead the way they only did in the country. 

“Set me down,” Tim ordered, his voice sounding normal.

“You sure?” Conner asked dubiously as Jay clambered off his back and Dami squirmed out from under his arms. 

Tim gave him a flat stare. “Do you want to explain why someone wearing their dead grandson’s face is at the doorstep with this ragtag crew?”

“I think we’re more motley than ragtag. Ow!” Bart rubbed his arm where Jay had elbowed him. 

Conner sighed in response and slowly tipped Tim onto his feet, his hand never leaving Tim’s elbow. Tim wanted to snap at that, but the hand was the only thing that prevented him from overbalancing. The drug was lessening its hold, but it was still lingering in his veins like tar and still affecting his movement. He could walk but he was still stumbling like a newborn calf. 

It would have to be enough. 

They arranged themselves on the porch and Tim knocked on the door. He waited patiently as lights flicked on and there was the using ruffling of a house coming to life at an ungodly hour. The porch light flicked on.

Kon opened the door. 

They stared at each other for a moment, Tim taking in the visage of his dead best friend. Kon looked, well, alive, for starters. He was in grey sweats and shirtless, and there were no great traumas written onto his skin, no scars to indicate that Kon had ever been anything less than healthy his entire life. He looked just as surprised as Tim felt, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. “Tim?” Kon asked quietly, as though speaking too loudly would break the illusion. “Is that… is that how you died?"

Tim caught the edge of the door and slowly closed it. 

The Team stood awkwardly for a moment. “Isn’t he supposed to be dead?” Jay asked. 

Tim gave a slight nod. 

The door creaked open again and Kon was still standing there, his eyes still the size of dinner plates. He reached out, pausing for a moment before finally reaching Tim's shoulder. His hand was warm, solid, alive and Tim couldn't hold back a choking noise.

"Tim?" Kon asked again, sounding small and scared.

The sound of bells rattled through the night as Tim threw himself into Kon's arms.

It was… familiar. Achingly familiar. But at the same time it was not. It was as though Tim had found his favorite childhood candy years after having tasted it last and then trying it to discover that it wasn’t quite the same as he remembered. He thought that Kon almost smelled the same, that the weight of his arms and the shape of his chest were close to what they had always been, but Tim just couldn’t be sure. Everything felt slightly off. 

"I'm sorry I didn't save you," Kon whispered into Tim's hair.

Tim pushed back and Kon loosened his arm, letting Tim escape his grip. "You're sorry you couldn't save me? From what? And how the fuck are you alive? You were dead! I went to your funeral! If I am in the wrong fucking dimension inswear to god I'm going to lose my goddamn mind."

Kon's mouth worked soundlessly before he squeaked. "Tim?"

"Yes." Tim was officially done. This was the weirdest fucking day of his life and he'd seen Bruce get yelled at by Dami about animal cruelty for wearing novelty bunny slippers. "I think we've established that is who I fucking am. Now how the fuck are you not dead?!"

"The Legion of Super-Heroes and time travel," Kon said dazedly. 

Tim threw his hands up. "Right! Because that is a comprehensive explanation!"

"Tim?" Kon asked again.

"He is more of a dullard than you, Clone," Dami sniffed in disdain, eyeing Kon with disgust he made no attempt to hide.

Kon blinked, as if just noticing Tim's entourage. His eyes focused back on Tim. "You're really here. You're alive! You're-" Even in the sickly glow of the porch light Tim could see the blood drain from Kon's face. 

He lunged forward, grabbing Tim off his feet into a bridal style hold. Tim shuddered at the contact, his body done with people touching him without Tim's permission. "Wait! Set me-" Tim's protests were cut off by Kon's yell.

"Ma! MA! Grab the kit! Tim's hurt bad!" He swept into the house and literally flew up the stairs. Behind them Tim could hear the Team cursing as they tried to cram themselves up the stairway to follow. 

Martha emerged from the bedroom, carrying a backpack that crinkled with the distinctive sound of packaging. She took one look at Tim. “Bathroom, now.” Kon complied without question and Tim found himself deposited on the toilet lid surrounded by Kents with Dami trying to push himself under Kon’s arm. The Kryptonian wasn’t budging and didn’t appear to be listening to Dami’s threats. Kon had never been great at telling when someone should actually worry him. 

“Out,” Martha ordered in her sternest voice as she fished through the backpack and started pulling out disinfectant wipes. 

“I can help, Ma!” Kon protested, flitting nervously even as he blocked Dami again, eliciting another curse from the small boy. The rest of the Team appeared behind him, craning to see past his bulky form. 

Martha nodded. “You can. By putting that casserole I froze in the oven for Tim’s new friends.” As far as Tim could tell she was unphased by her grandson’s doppelganger. “You are going to go down stairs and do that and you are not going to eavesdrop. If you do you will find yourself helping all the neighbors out with their chores. Understand?” A solid threat. Kon couldn’t use his powers to help out the neighbors. 

“But-”

“Do you understand?”

"Little D needs stitches!" Tim tossed out, hoping that giving Kon something else to focus on would get this over with as soon as possible.

“Yes Ma,” Kon said grudgingly. He turned and started pushing the Team out of the room, tucking Dami under his arm.

“I will saw your fingers off, you inferior test tube mongrel.” Dami complained. The door shut, leaving Tim and Martha alone. 

“I’m fine, Mrs. Kent,” Tim said as soon as the sound of footsteps faded. “The blood isn’t really mine.”

Martha hummed. “I’m sure everyone will feel better once I check you over.” She reached for the robe, the part of the opening just above his chest. And then Tim was back in Paris. The room smelled of dust and perfume, candles flicking, making the skulls that lined the catacombs even more ghastly. His arms were chained and splayed above his head while he was on his knees, Ra’s’ sister whispering in his ear, promising glory for their child and death for Tim.

Cass found him. Tim grabbed that thought and held onto it. Cass found him before anything else happened. He needed to let Paris go because it wasn’t a big deal. Nothing happened. Not really. 

He took in a shuddering breath, back in the bathroom. Martha was there, no longer touching him but watching him with too-knowing eyes. “I’m fine, Mrs. Kent.”

“It’s okay to not be fine, Tim,” she said quietly, “and I’m sorry. I should have known better than to touch you.”

Tim frowned. “Nothing happened. It was just staged.”

Martha sighed and Tim could tell she didn’t believe a word of what he’d said, despite it all being true. “Okay, Tim. Nothing happened. But I still need you to take off your clothes so I can see how badly you’re hurt.”   
  
He shook his head so vehemently that it set the bells off. Nope. No one else was seeing him naked for at least a year. Ra’s was enough thank you very much. “I am absolutely not injured. I just need a shower and...” he looked down, wrinkling his nose at his mess of an outfit, “clothes. And something to cut this damn belt with.”

Instead of scolding him over his language, Martha sighed. “Alright, but you shower with the door unlocked. If I hear you hit the tub I’m coming in, understand?”

Not ideal, but not the worst compromise he’s ever made. Tim was feeling steady enough that it should be a non-issue. Tim shrugged. "Fine." Martha stood and moved to leave the bathroom when something important hit Tim with the strength of a brick. "Mrs Kent? Please don't tell anyone I'm here." 

"Tim," she turned to kneel in front of him again. "Tim, sweetie," she gently took his hand. "Everyone thinks you're dead."

Kon had certainly seemed convinced. What the hell had Other Bruce done? Tim bit his lip. "I'm just not… not ready to face everyone yet." Tim felt no guilt at manipulating Martha Kent if it meant him getting out of this without seeing Other Bruce.

She gave his hand a light squeeze. "Okay. We'll take this at your pace." She stood again, his hand sliding out of hers. "I'll be right back."

The moment the door shut Tim let out a gusty breath and allowed his head to fall into his hands. His hair was crunchy with flood and he could see flakes fall onto the yellowing linoleum of the Kents' bathroom floor. He could do this. He could handle all of this. He was Red Robin, not a victim, and this was just another day in his life.

There was a gentle knock on the door and Tim appreciated that Martha hadn't just walked in. Except it wasn't Martha at the door. 

It was Conner.

"Here," he offered Tim a folded pile that had a towel, a pair of sweats, one of Kon's shirts and a set of scissors. Tim took the pile from Conner, who immediately reached back for it, pulling the shirt free.

"What are you doing?" Tim asked, bewildered, as Conner pulled off his own shirt and set it on top of the pile.

"It's from home. You need that." He slid Kon's shirt above his own head. It was slightly too large for Conner. Most people wouldn't notice, but Tim knew exactly how tight Conner wore his shirts. "I'll guard the door. If you need anything I'll be right here." 

Tim blinked and then narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "You were eavesdropping."

"Not my neighbors," Conner said without a shred of remorse. Tim raised an eyebrow and Conner crossed his arms and tilted his chin, taking on his most mulish expression. 

Tim was too tired to argue. "Whatever. I'm taking a shower."

"I'll guard the door. Don't fall." Conner didn't say it, but the 'or I'll burst in' was strongly implied 

Tim just shut the door on the Kryptonian. 

Tim set the bundle on the vanity, grabbing the scissors and hacking away at the belt. It was lined with leather, forcing Tim to saw his way through the thick material. He could probably ask Conner to snap it for him, but part of Tim needed to do this for himself. For the symbolism or something.

When it finally tore away, falling to the floor like a dead snake, Tim felt a knot in his chest loosen. It didn't disappear but he could definitely breathe a little deeper.

Tentatively, Tim looked up, finally ready to look at himself in the mirror. He could reluctantly understand why everyone was panicking when they saw him. He looked like a horror movie survivor, each tear in his clothes highlighted with blood. It framed his face and there was the splotch of the occasional deliberately placed hand: an artful illusion painted by a psychopath. 

He was going to kill Future Evil Tim.

He peeled the robes off, hissing when he had to tug because blood had glued the fabric to his skin, but with every layer he shed he felt more like himself. And honestly? If he heard a bell in the next twenty-four hours he was going to deck whoever was ringing it. 

Finally free of Ra's' insane idea of fashion, Tim twisted the taps, fiddling with the knobs until the water ran just a little hotter than was comfortable. He stepped under the spray, the water at his feet immediately turning crimson as blood swirled. Tim shivered. Not his. Not really.

Suddenly desperate to get the blood off his skin, Tim reached for the nearest bar of soap and began to scrub in frantic motions. He could feel a wetness gathering in his eyes that had nothing to do with the shower and he didn't fight, letting the tears stream down his face where they mixed with blood, water, and soap before being lost down the drain.

He leaned his forehead against the wall, letting the tears come as they would. Tim was silent as the salt ran down his cheeks, no treacherous hitching breathe or pitiful snivels to give away him succumbing to weakness to either if the Superboys who were probably listening. His mother had always found his tears pathetic, so he'd taught himself how to keep that particular fault to himself. Other Batman had appreciated a Robin who didn't cry in the face of their more gruesome cases and had never noticed that Tim ran his showers a little too hot and a little too long. 

Bruce… Bruce wouldn't mind Tim crying. He'd probably give him an awkward hug and lure Tim into the kitchen where the man would scorch the hot chocolate he tried to brew. The thought brought a small, soft smile to Tim's face. Bruce could burn water. 

Tim wanted to go home.

Instead, he reached for a bottle of shampoo, pouring a little on his hand before he realized it was Kon's, the scent of pine and mint hitting him like a brick.

Kon, who apparently was back from the dead. Tim was in no way prepared to think about that so he let the water clean his hands of the shampoo and grabbed a different bottle, something with citrus, and worked that into his deep into his scalp, fingernails scraping against skin until it hurt. He repeated the process until _finally_ the water ran clear. 

Tim could have stood there until the water ran cold and his teeth chattered, but Dami and Jay needed to clean themselves as well, so with a sigh Tim shut the water off and stepped onto the bathmat. He wrapped himself in the towel Martha had provided him, one that was large and soft, and used a corner to start drying his hair, frequently checking to make sure he wasn't staining the creamy fabric. 

Once he'd located a comb, the mirror had began to clear up, allowing Tim his first clear glimpse of his own skin since this mess began. His shoulder was bruised from where the darts had hit him and there were trails from the cruel pinches Future Evil Tim had decorated him with, but Tim was surprisingly okay given that he'd spent time with Ra's people. He'd obviously been handled with care.

A shudder wracked its way through Tim. He'd been naked in front of Ra's. That version of the man hadn't done anything, probably had no intention of having Tim used that way, but his brain couldn't tell the two Ra's' apart and his skin felt like it was crawling, little ants nipping at the roots of the hairs on his arms. He could still feel her hands dragging across his scalp as she pulled off his cowl, the phantom tug of his zipper, hear the noise it made as it slowly gave way.

Ra's' and Future Evil Tim's kidnapping were no coincidence. Future Evil Tim needed Tim when he was vulnerable to sell his little Motivations to Commit Murder PSA and it made Tim want to puke, knowing that he could have grown up to be that man.

That monster.

He pulled on Kon's sweats, cinching them as tight as they would go and rolling the cuffs so they hung at his ankles. He slipped Conner's shirt over his head. 

It smelled like Conner, a sweet musk, Sphere's metal polish and Wolf. Not quite the Batcave, but it was still a physical, tangible connection to home. A reminder that Bruce was real and waiting for him to come home. That he didn't belong to Other Bruce anymore. He felt his throat tighten with emotion.

Tim pushed it aside, pushed it all aside. He'd had his outburst and now it was time for logic to rule. Bruce wouldn't know about the interdimensional aspect of this kidnapping so it was up to Tim to get everyone home and fast. Martha wouldn't hide Tim's presence here for long, especially since she considered Other Bruce to be a parent like herself, someone who cared about their kids. She'd eventually let Tim being here slip to Clark who would immediately inform Other Bruce, which meant that Tim needed to get the Team secured and fast.

The Teen Titans' tower was the best option that Tim was guaranteed to have access to. It was outside of the Justice League's authority, was easily defended, and had enough resources for Tim to try and figure out who the hell he needed to reach out to in order to get everyone home. 

That was the priority. The Future Evil Titans were here because the future was changing and they needed Tim in this dimension and the Teen Titans on board with their methods in order to prevent that. Theoretically, if Tim made it back then a dramatic enough shift should occur in the timeline to completely erase that future. If that didn't happen at the very least he'd be able to get the rest of the Team to safety and they'd let Bruce know what was happening.

Tim nodded at his reflection. Not his most detailed plan but better than nothing. 

Finally feeling a sense of control, Tim squared his shoulders and opened the door. Conner was where he'd promised to be, leaned up against the hallway wall with his arms crossed. He gave Tim a slow up and down before nodding, though Tim couldn't tell if it was in approval or just in acknowledgement. “You’re needed downstairs,” Conner said impassively. “Jason and Damian are fighting over whether or not stab wounds always need stitches. Damian’s winning."

Tim pursed his lips. Stab wounds didn't _always_ need stitches, but Dami didn’t need to learn that. 

Wait.

_Wait a goddamn minute._

"They told you their _names?"_

Conner shuffled. "No." He lowered his gaze and looked to the side. "I follow Richard Grayson on Twitter," Conner muttered. Tim could feel his eyes widen past anything natural and Conner rushed to explain. "Nightwing, back when he was Robin, thought I needed to be more in touch with the world. He set me up an account with several people he thought I'd like to follow." He pulled his gaze up, locking eyes with Tim. "He makes the same jokes about how weird English is when he tweets."

“Nope.” Tim held his hands parallel to the ground. “I’m not thinking about this right. I’m going down stairs to make sure Dami gets treatment. Batman can handle Dick's dumb ass when we get back." Tim turned to take the stairs down, pausing at the top.

"What is it?" Conner asked.

An easy lie came to Tim's lips but he swallowed it down, nearly choking. Waiting until he felt he could speak again, he sighed. "Everyone is going to insist on checking me out and I really…" Tim sighed again. "I just really don't want anyone touching me right now."

"Are you okay?" Conner asked, the question firm and steady, not tinged with concern or pity. Tim appreciated it.

“Physically? Yes. Just a superficial bruise here and there. Otherwise?” Tim let out a wry bark of laughter. “Dinah might have to adjust my meds." He wiped his hands on his sweats. "Sorry, I'm getting my feelings all over you."

Conner shrugged. "I don't mind."

Tim didn't have a response to that. After a moment he clapped his hands. "Right. Dami. Stitches. Let's go."

He made his way to the stairs. He was careful to put a hand on the rail as they were uneven, apparently a testament to having a pouting superhero for a child. Or maybe it was a farmhouse having character thing?

In the kitchen he found Dami hissing in the corner, holding up a chair to ward Jay away and Martha. Bart was watching the entire scene stuffing his face with homemade trail mix from a plastic bag while Kon hovered at his grandmother's elbow, prepared to jump between her and the tiny assassin.

“I am fine, Todd, though if you keep trying to touch me you will not be!” 

Tim clapped his hands, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “Dami, sit. You’re getting stitches.”

Dami didn’t lower the chair an inch. “I will receive no medical attention until I know that you are not hurt.”

Nope. Tim was not allowing this precedent to be set. Dami did not get to emotionally blackmail Tim by risking his own health. Tim marched over to Dami and grabbed the chair by its legs, twisting sharply so that it fell from Dami’s grip. He slammed onto the kitchen floor and then grabbed a stunned Dami by the collar, dragging him to the chair. With a quick maneuver Tim was in the chair, Dami plopped on his lap. "Jay. Stitches.” 

“Right!” Jay said, wasting no time as he grabbed the necessary supplies.

Tim grabbed the bottom of Dami’s shirt and pulled up to wrench the garment off. Dami dropped his elbows, locking the costume in place. “I will not cooperate until you have proven that you are unhurt, Timothy!” 

“Not how this game is played.” Tim grabbed where the sword had left a hole and wrenched, tearing the fabric away to reveal the wound. Dami went boneless, trying to duck out from under Tim’s grip so he could slide to the floor. “Conner!”

Conner reacted instantly, stepping away from where he’d been leaning and striding over to Dami. “Do not try it, Clone!” Dami snapped his teeth as though biting Conner would actually do something. Conner’s response was to grab him by his good arm and the back of his neck, holding him upright so Jay could work on Dami’s shoulder. “You will rue this when Timothy dies of untreated wounds. You are all aware that he lacks the ability to keep himself in good health!” Dami snarled, still twisting despite knowing he was being held in place by one of the strongest people on the planet.

"I'm fine. Now hold still."

Jay filled a needle from a small bottle. Local anesthetic. Why did the Kents have all this stuff? Given that their lives were filled with Kryptonians they wouldn't have much chance to use it. 

"Just a small pinch," Jay warned Dami.

The boy snarled. "Anesthetic is for the weak! I am more than capable of handling a few stitches."

"Aaaand done." Jay passed the needle off to Bart. Jay used his teeth to tear into the stitching needle.

Knowing Jay had it well in hand, Tim turned his attention back to the Kents. Kon was still staring at Tim like he'd seen a ghost while Martha pulled a casserole out of the oven. She kept shooting Tim these pitying looks, as though he was bleeding from some wound that only she could see. There was, however, one noticeable absence. 

"Where's Mr. Kent?" Tim asked with trepidation.

"Jonathan's going to an auction tomorrow down in Eastlock. It starts at eight and he wanted to be there early, so he headed out this morning," Martha answered, her voice low and soothing as though Tim was a spooked calf.

That was going to get really old really fast. 

"I am fine!" Dami tried to twist again. "Unhand me! Timothy is in need of care!"

“I already checked him over.” Years of practice prevented Tim from looking at Conner in surprise as he told that whopper of a lie. “He’s fine.” Tim was, but Conner was trusting Tim’s assessment on his health. It made Tim feel warm.

Dami went stock still in Tim’s arms at Conner’s words and Tim was glad to see that they had a calming effect on the boy. 

“You dare lay eyes upon Timothy’s bare flesh’?!” 

Or not. 

“Dammit, Dami, hold still! There are only two more stitches to go,” Jay grumbled. Conner moved a hand to Dami’s upper arm, forcing him to stay in place. 

Dami snarled. “I have slain one Kryptonian today. It will be no challenge to slay another! I will fill your veins with kryptonite and watch your eyes boil out of your skull for this offense, Clone!”

“Hey!” Martha said in a flash of temper. “We don’t call people clones in this household.”

“I will refer to this test tube scum however I choose to you, miserable harridan,” Dami spat. “The Clone and I have business to settle and you will not interfere.”

Kon stood. “I don’t care how old you are, kid. You don’t talk to Ma that way.”

“And what will you do about it, dog?”

“And last stitch is done!” Jay said, causing Conner to let go of Dami. “Now we can stop fighting with the nice people who are giving us food. Isn’t that a great idea? Impulse, don’t you think that’s a great idea?”

Bart give a thumbs up before shovelling more food into his already bulging cheeks. 

“I think your buffoonery is why you died.” The room fell into a heavy silence, Jay looking sick. Uncaringly, Dami shrugged himself free of Tim’s grip. “You are all blind fools and you will be slaughtered like animals against even the weakest of opponents and you are going to get Timothy killed!” On the last word he reached out and pulled a photo off of a shelf, flinging it with all his might at Conner. The instincts that came with training with Dinah kicked in and Conner dodged to the side. The picture embedded itself into the wall. 

“Dami!” Tim grabbed his good shoulder, kneeling in front of the boy. Dami slapped Tim across the face, his eyes red. 

“Do not presume to touch me! You are so incompetant that you lack the basic ability to feed yourself. Like a fool you keep baring your neck to predators and you are going to make me watch as your own idiocy undoes all my hard work! I hate you, Timothy!”

Dami burst into tears.

For a moment Tim was certain that if he reached up to his own chest he’d find a ragged wound weeping blood as Dami’s words echo those of Other Damian and he wanted to retreat, to go hide in the barn while he nursed his hurts. But what Dami had said to Jay was infinitely worse than what he’d said to Tim and had definitely cut the boy deeply. It was strange because this Dami, for all his threats, did genuinely like Tim, and he loved and acknowledged Jay as a brother. For him to suddenly go feral was out of character for the boy. 

For the boy.

Tim was an idiot. 

He hooked his hands under Dami’s armpits and heaved, lifting the boy into Tim’s arms. “Put me down!” Dami snarled, but he made no move to extricate himself. Tim ignored him and carried Dami to the living room with only the small stagger. He dropped Dami on the couch before flopping on top of him, wrapping an arm around the boy and pulling him against Tim’s body. “Get off of me!”

“No.” Tim nuzzled into Dami’s hair. “I’m sleepy so we are taking a nap.” While Tim had spent some time unconscious as Ra’s transported him across the globe, Jay and Dami were likely not so lucky. Even if they had been provided an opportunity to sleep, Dami would have been too paranoid to take it; a good instinct when dealing with the League of Assassins. And though he’d deny it until his dying breath, he had stayed up late with Dick to make sure that Dami’s costume met the boy’s standard of workmanship. Then factor in that Tim had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t November first and that they’d all been running on nothing but adrenaline, it was amazing Dami was on his feet. 

Yes, Tim and Jay could pull this off but they both have had a lot more practice than Dami, and were old enough that their bodies could handle this kind of sleep deprivation. With protests, of course, but it was still doable. 

Dami was having a sleep deprivation induced tantrum. 

“Let me go,” Dami hissed, though he made no effort to move. 

“No.” 

Dami made a dissatisfied hum but it took less time than Tim would have thought for his breathing to even out, though he’d somehow gotten a death grip on the collar of Conner’s shirt. Frowning, Tim decided to give it a few minutes before trying to free himself of Dami so he could go debrief everyone, apologize to the Kents and maybe get some casserole. 

It was a solid plan but Tim’s brain decided that sleep was a better one. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright: Bad News
> 
> I've lost the thread of this story. I'm gonna try and get it back but my mom ended up in the hospital for mystery health problems and I'm already one parent down so I'm otherwise focused on that right now. Hopefully that will be cleared up and it will be hunky dory and then I can come back to this, but that's where I'm at right now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which pieces of the puzzle are snapped into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have written a thing. I don't know if it is a good thing but quite frankly I am done with this chapter.

Coffee. Tim needed coffee. He pried open his gummy eyes and gave the room a cursory check, taking in enough detail to mark it as safe before stumbling towards where he was sure coffee lived. 

He yawned and blinked his eyes, squinting against the light and knocking both his Nest and the Batcave as places he could be. They had wisely been designed without windows, allowing Tim to not have to deal with a fiery death orb within his first minutes of waking.

Coffee had not been made so he allowed instinct to guide him to the beans, memory to measure out the beans and water into the coffee maker without even opening his eyes. While the pot gargled and spat Tim grabbed a mug, cupping it in both hands as he waited for his bounty.

"Does he know we are in the room?"

"Oh, I guess he's never slept over at the mountain. Yeah, he's always like this in the morning."

"In the Tower we always have a pot of coffee ready for him because he's absolutely useless without it."

"Silence, Clone Two. Timothy is never useless and even now he could respond to danger with only a moment's notice. Observe."

Something light smacked into Tim's head before clattering to the floor. Tim let out a small whine of displeasure.

"... perhaps I have miscalculated."

"Will you stop throwing things in Ma's house?!"

"Tt. It was only a coaster."

"And yesterday it was a picture frame! I swear if you break anything else I'm locking you in the barn!"

"As if that could hold me. I mastered the art of escape when I was three."

The coffee maker let out a final spurt and Tim grabbed the pot, pouring a serving into his mug. He walked both the cup and the mug to the table and slid the cup in front of where Bruce probably sat.

"Um, thanks?"

With a nod Tim started to chug straight from the pot. 

"Tim, no! Bad Tim!" Someone grabbed the pot and tried to pull it away from Tim's mouth. He let them but didn't release his hold on the pot, his brain sluggishly relaying what information was pertinent. First, someone was coming between Tim and coffee. Second, it wasn't Alfred. Third, coffee.

As quick as a snake Tim fell back on his lessons with Rahul Lama, his fingers slamming into a pocket of nerves.

"Jesus fucking Christ on a motherfucking cracker. What the hell did you do to my arm?!"

"Tt. I informed you that Timothy was always at the ready."

Tim resumed chugging his sweet sweet coffee.

"Goddamn fucking sonuvabitch. Ow."

When the pot ran empty Tim hummed in satisfaction. He glimpsed at Bruce's coffee, which remained untouched. Slowly he slid his closer to the cup, snagging the handle and dragging it back to himself. When no one interrupted he brought it to his lips to have a long slow sip.

"Is that safe?"

"You want to stop him you grab it. My fucking arm is still fucked. You're Kryptonian, you can handle it."

"We always just let Tim do his thing when it comes to caffeine."

Tim blinked, his brain sputtering to life. He glanced around the table, making a note of its occupants. Conner, Kon, Jay and Dami were all watching him with expressions that slid between horror and fascination. Kon was the only one who looked unperturbed. 

"Morning," Tim said with a yawn.

"Fuck you," snapped Jay, shaking his arm from the shoulder.

Tim frowned at him, catching the tension in Jay’s face, the way his eyes pinched with pain. "If your arm hurts I know a few tricks to fix that."

"Oh?! Do you?! Do you fucking really?! You sonuvabitch." Tim blinked in confusion, not sure why Jay sounded so irate. Despite his anger Jay held his arm out to Tim. While Tim had no idea how Jay had managed to fuck up his arm that bad, certainly not but slamming it against the edge of the table or whatever, but a few pressure points later it was as good as new.

Kon tilted his head. "When did you learn how to," he mimed poking his own arm. 

"Par-" Tim swallowed, the smell of death and perfume in his nose. He shook his head. Nope. Not there. Shake it off. "Paris." He gave a tense smile. Kon opened his mouth, probably to ask a question Tim didn't want to answer. Tim cut him off at the pass. "Where are Bart and Mrs. Kent?" he asked, infusing innocent curiosity into his voice.

Kon squinted suspiciously. "Ma's at the Farmer's Market. She’s been making pies all week to sell today. Bart is grabbing Chinese food from China or something." That sounded more like something Bart- other Bart? would have done. He'd been goofy like that. His death had taken a lot of light from the Teen Titans.

“The whole doubles thing is weird,” Kon said even as he studied Conner with a frown. 

Conner scowled back.

Kon turned away from Conner with a final dubious look. "So, Tim. Can you please explain what the heck is going on?! Everyone thinks you're dead! I couldn't find your heartbeat! And then you show up here out of the blue, covered in blood, with doppelgangers of the Titans. Like, what the heck?"

Tim sighed. "It's a long story."

"We've got time," Kon said stubbornly.

Tim shook his head. "We don't. We need to get to the Tower as soon as possible. Plus I don't want to explain this a dozen times." He gave a wry grin. "As I said, it's a long story."

"Fine," Kon grumbled in a tone that implied that it was definitely not fine.

Great. Tim sighed and downed the last of his cup. He grabbed the pot, intending to pour more but the damn thing was empty. With another sigh he grabbed the pot and went to stand. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Jay tugged the pot out of his hand. “No more coffee!”

“But Jay!” Tim would deny that his voice had a whining edge. “I’ve only had a cup!”

Jay’s eyes went wide. “You’ve had an entire fucking pot in like three minutes. What the fuck is wrong with you? This!” Jay pointed a finger, holding the pot against his side and twisting it farther away, “this is why Alfred rations you, isn’t it? You’re a goddamn coffee junkie.”

“I am not. Conner, tell him I’m not a coffee junkie.”

Conner snorted. “Solve your own problems.”

“Tim’s not a coffee junkie,” Kon added. 

Tim through his hands high in the air. “Thank you! At least someone here is reasonable!”

“Timothy!” Dami snapped. “No more coffee!”

"I don't need your help, Damian," Jay snarled. "I swear to god, Tim, that if you take one more sip of coffee today I'm kicking your ass and telling Alfred."

Tim crossed his arms and fell back into his chair. “Fine,” he said petulantly, his lower lip sticking out. He knew he was pouting but he also knew that this room was full of sadists. 

“Christ,” Jay muttered as he put the coffee pot in the sink, away from Tim. “You have the survival skills of a drunk squirrel. And that’s coming from me. ” 

Tim could feel everyone's judging stares. He lifted his chin. Let them judge. He'd fight them. He'd fight all of them.

A gust of wind cut through the room despite the window being shut. Bart stepped out of it carrying a large basket. "Holy shit I had no idea how much fruit existed! Look!" He started unpacking the basket. "These are cloudberries, the spikey thing is a durian, this is a feijoa, that's soursop. Soursop! Isn't that name totally crash?" Bart continued to unpack the basket, excitedly showing off his finds into the Kents' table was covered in fruits from all across the globe. 

There were also a few pluots of varying flavors. 

Bart puffed out his chest, like a cat that had dragged home a kill for its master and no one had it in them to hold onto the ill feelings that had previously filled the room. 

"Isn't this cool?"

Tim gave a genuinely fond smile. "Yes Bart. Very cool. But I think we're going to need to look up how to eat all this. Batman never prepared me for a durian."

Bart's grin took on a manic edge. He blurred and suddenly everyone had plates with portions of the various fruits while the waste was in a bucket by the garbage. Bart returned to focus and preened in self satisfaction. "I read a book about it." He watched well everyone stared at him. "Come on, eat!"

It was neither the strangest or the most awkward breakfast Tim had ever had. While there was tension, Jay actively avoiding eye contact with Dami, Kon and Conner frowning at each other while the other wasn’t looking and Dami sneering at everyone and everything, Bart kept up an easy chatter. He gave facts about the fruit: where it was from, what it was used for and who he'd gotten it from. 

While there had been variety, the quantity had been lacking. It didn't take long for the meal to draw to a close with everyone still hungry. Tim wasn't sure how to politely bring it up, or if he should wait for Jay to start hunting for where the Kents kept their bread.

"Wow!" Bart exclaimed. "That was delicious but I'm still starving. I'm going to go get something heavier. But it might take a while." He stood and grabbed the bucket of slops. "Kon, you have pigs? I thought I saw a pig."

Kon's eyebrows went into his hair. "We have one. Pa is raising it for Christmas."

Bart grabbed Kon by his elbow and nudged him towards the door. "Cool. You can take Damian to see it. I bet he's never seen a pig."

Damian tilted his head suspiciously. "I have never seen a pig but…" His eyes narrowed at Kon. 

Something in Bart's face shifted and behind Kon's back, Conner nodded. "I haven't gotten close to a pig either. I'll come with." He stood and grabbed Dami by the elbow, pulling him along. Dami feigned resistance for a few seconds before matching Conner's stride.

"Well, I suppose we can go then, if only for the Clone's education."

"Great!" Bart beamed. "And when you get back I'll have real food!"

"Alright?" Kon said, eyeing Dami suspiciously even as he made his own way to the door.

"So tell me about this pig," Dami said imperiously. "What is its name? Is it male or female?" his voice faded away into nothing as the clack of the door marked his exit from the house.

Bart said down, leaning towards Tim and Jay conspiratorially. "So this is what I found out. Gotham's a powder keg."

Jay raised an eyebrow, holding a hand out to make Bart pause. "I thought you did a food run."

Bart scoffed. "I'm a Speedster. I move so fast I can run through walls. It doesn't take me an hour to gather fruit."

Tim matched Bart's lean. "What do you mean? What's going on?"

"What isn't? Wayne Enterprise's CEO, Tim Wayne, was declared lost at sea but given how fast and smoothly his position was filled the rumor is that he was murdered and it was covered up. Possible suspects range anywhere from Lex Luthor to the Waynes themselves."

Tim drew back. "Really?"

Bart gave a decisive nod. "Really. And the average Joe thinks it was Bruce who took you out."

Tim drew in his breath with a hiss. That did not bode well. He needed to get his team home fast.

"Apparently possibly being murdered has also made the will a shit show and has caused company stocks to drop hard."

Oh fuck. Oooooooooh fuck. Tim had forgotten that.

Jay gave Tim a look. "I'm missing something."

Tim dropped his head into his hands, rubbing at his skin as he absorbed the implications. He dragged his hands down his face as he raised his head. “So I may have put in a clause where my will was to be administered differently if foul play was suspected? If any sort of legal investigation was opened to look at it.”

“Okaaay,” Jay drawled.

“So,” Tim rubbed his knuckles together. “I may have left the majority shares of Wayne Enterprise’s to the board of directors of a charity. But the directors are all me. And new ones can only be appointed by me. And the charity can only be administered by someone I appointed.”

“So you left all your fancy money to some dude to use for a charity?” Jay asked, finally joining in the whole leaning forward vibe. 

Tim winced. “I didn’t appoint anyone.”

“Are you telling me that you basically pulled a pirate bury the treasure at X and then shot the guy with the map but with Wayne fucking Enterprise? What the fuck, Tim?”

“Hey!” Tim held his hands up. “I know what I’m doing. The charity has a legal right to the stocks until it’s mandate is fulfilled or until ten years have passed, in which case the shares will revert to Damian. The mandate is impossible, so they will go to Damian. It was the best way to make sure that Elliot and Ra’s didn’t get there hands on the company again.”

“Elliot who?”

“Nevermind!” Tim waved frantically. “Not important. But we really need to get to the Titan Tower before Other Bruce finds out I’m here because he is going to be so very pissed.” Tim did not have words to accurately describe how angry Other Bruce was going to be, but it wasn’t Tim’s fault that Bruce’s ‘be prepared for anything’ backfired and interfered with Tim’s ‘be prepared for everything.’ 

Bart nodded but remained grim. Tim sighed. “What else?”

“Batman’s gone feral in his need to avenge Red Robin. The villains all suspect that Red Hood took him out. Apparently the guy hasn’t been seen since him and Nightwing had it out and mangled a few blocks and the goons who saw Red Robin last swear that he was with Red Hood at the time.” 

“Who's the Red Hood?” Jay asked. 

"Antihero," Tim muttered, hoping that Jay would be satisfied by that and oh god wasn't that just one more thing. He needed to keep knowledge of the Red Hood, his murder spree and his Tim vendetta away from the Team. Why was Tim's life like this? “This is all bad news.” He groaned and rubbed his face again. “We need to get back home fast.”

“Don’t we need to take out those losers who brought us here first?”

Tim was shaking his head before Jay finished his question. “They’re from the future. It’s complicated and I’m not going to explain this a dozen times, so I’ll give you the full story when we meet up with the Teen Titans. Basically, if I can get back home I can’t be here in the future so the future shifts in such a way that they can’t come back to interfere again.”

Jay opened his mouth to ask another question but Bart held a finger up to his lips. “Don’t. I’ve helped build a time machine, have actually travelled through time, and I still don’t get it. Accept what Tim says about this and move on with your life. It’s better for everyone.” He waited until he was sure that Jay wasn’t going to speak before removing the finger. “Now that we’ve handled the important bit,” Bart reached under the table a lifted up another basket. He opened it up and offered it to Jay. “Scone?”

Jay rolled his eyes but took the pastry. Bart tossed one to Tim as well. Tim waited until Jay was a few bites in before posing his question. “How long are you going to be pissed at Dami for?”

Jay set his scone on the plate. “Don’t make me the bad guy. I love that kid but he also needs to learn to watch his mouth.”

“What he said was cruel.” A lot of what Dami said was cruel. The kid had been raised by assassins but that wasn’t an excuse. Tim had had that tossed in his face enough times to know that fact didn’t soothe wounds. But Dami was also just a child. “But I think he’s trying really hard to hide how freaked out he is.”

Jay sighed. “He’s the only one who thinks B is gonna find us.”

“Do you really think he thinks that?” Tim prodded. “And do you think that he thinks Bruce is going to find him? Or do you think that he believes Bruce is going to find us and if he’s close enough he gets to come too?”

Jay raised his eyebrows. “If there is one thing Dami is not it’s insecure.”

“Remember the day we met? Dami came and ate with me.” Jay nodded. “He wanted to leave the room anyway so he could hide that he was picking out the meat in his dish. He was terrified that if he told Bruce he was a vegetarian he was going to end up homeless.” 

Jay sighed and tossed his head back so he was looking at the ceiling. He popped his head back up. “Shit. I didn’t know that.”

“Well, now you do.” Tim fiddled with his scone. “He definitely owes you an apology. He definitely needs to be held accountable when he flips out like that, but I don’t think now is the time.”

Jay grumbled unintelligibly under his breath. 

The sound of a door being thrown open rocked through the house and Dami ran into the kitchen. “They have a pig and he is pink but he is also black and they did not bother to name him,” Dami shot an acidic look at a weary looking Kon, “so I have and he is now Hannibal Barca. He will grow to be the mightiest of all pigs and they will acknowledge him as their ruler.”

"Are those scones?" Kon asked as he pulled one out of the basket. "Ma's got apricot jam in the fridge."

Bart tilted his head in curiosity. "Apricot? What’s apricot taste like?"

X-X-X-X-X

"Welcome to the Teen Titan Tower!" Kon showcased the building with a grandiose hand gesture. The building rose elegantly against the skyline, it’s base framed by a garden filled with trees and exoctic flowers. A stream snaked its way beside the path, trickling from a gentle waterfall up ahead. 

“It is too obvious a base of operations,” Dami said, clearly unimpressed, “and the structure of it is ridiculous. Are your villains as dim-witted as the rest of the people in this universe? How is it that they have not simply eradicated you?”

“Hey!” Kon protested. “The Tower is a perfectly sound base of operations!”

Dami raised an eyebrow. “So it has never been penetrated by an enemy?” One look at Kon’s face revealed the truth of the matter and Dami scoffed. “I thought as much.”

“Hey, that had nothing to do with the design of the tower. It’s not like anyone could have guessed that-”

“It was just human error,” Tim said loudly to cut off Kon. He didn’t want to explain as much as he didn’t want to be reminded of Jason beating him half to death in the basement. “The Tower is perfectly secure so we should all just go inside, okay?” Please? Tim wanted more coffee.

Dami sniffed. “The last time I entered a ‘secure’ base it was penetrated mere hours later. I will decide whether or not it meets expectations. Todd,” he barked at Jay. “As you are the least useless I trust that you will also provide input on security flaws.”

That was… that was almost an apology and it was completely unprompted. Jay’s lips quirked and Dami squirmed at Jay's lack of immediate response. The older boy set his hand on Dami's head and ruffled his hair and Tim doubted that Jay missed the way Dami leaned into the action. "Yeah, by the time we're done not even B will be able to sneak in."

Kon rolled his eyes. "Our security is fine." He started floating up the path. "Now come on, hurry up. Everyone else is probably here."

Tim could feel lead in his step as he followed Kon up the path. Who was everyone? He should have asked. Was it his old team? Had they recruited? Were there any unknowns? Wait. Dick had said Robin had joined the team. Did everyone include Damian? Was Damian here?!

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He was so stupid! Never act without intel. Dammit he was going to get them all killed. 

A hand on his shoulder made him jump. "Sorry," Conner murmured quietly, "but Dinah said touch can be grounding. Your heart beat said you needed it." The hand dropped away. "Sorry for touching you."

"Thanks," Tim whispered back, ignoring that Conner was focused on his heartbeat. The last thing he needed was a panic attack right now. If Damian was here they would deal with it. Tim could lock him in a closet or something.

"Kon!" Cassie's voice split the air. She floated into sight to give Kon an enthusiastic hug. "I thought you were taking the weekend off to help Mrs Kent with the Farmer's Market?" She was different than how Tim remembered her, though he didn't know if that was because she'd changed or because he had. She seemed more settled in her own skin, like she had found a part of herself no one knew was missing. 

"Yeah, about that…" Kon rubbed the back of his head but before he could elaborate a yellow streak twirled around him. 

"Dude, so crash you are here! The girls are kicking my ass at Supersmash bros. I'm playing Peach and Mario and despite being the dream team I'm-"

The rambling faded away as Tim stared, the yellow streak having settled into the painfully familiar figure of Bart Allen, the second Kid Flash, time traveller extraordinaire who'd been beaten to death the two-bit criminals that made up the Flash's rogue gallery. 

Who was standing here.

Perfectly alive. 

As though nothing had happened. 

"Is it something in the water?" Tim asked as his mind struggled for a more coherent thought. 

Cassie and KF Bart both went rigid. With stilted motions they turned so that they could take in the newest arrivals. Tim could see Cassie’s gaze bouncing from Conner to Bart to him and could feel the conclusion she was drawing. KF Bart, on the other hand, only had eyes for Tim. 

“Dude-you’re-alive!” Tim was wrapped in a firm hug by a literally vibrating KF Bart. 

“Bart,” Cassie said softly as she landed by them. She placed a hand on KF Bart’s shoulder. “That’s not our Tim.”

“What…?” KF Bart pulled back, sounding small. He studied Tim’s face for a moment. “No, this is definitely our Tim!” He pulled Tim back into the hug. Tim returned it, his arms wrapped tightly around a friend thought lost to him forever.

"Kon." Cassie turned to the Kryptonian for back up.

Kon just shrugged. "It's our Tim. He hasn't explained anything yet but it is definitely him."

She spun back towards Tim mouth working soundlessly. Finally, a weird tumbled out. "How?"

"How is Bart alive?!" Tim countered. 

KF Bart grinned brightly. "The Legion of Super-Heroes and-"

"-time travel," Tim finished for him. Because of course. 

He gently pushed KF Bart away, giving him an awkward pat to reassure himself before scrubbing a hand through his own hair. "So," he said awkwardly, keenly aware of everyone staring at him. "We probably need to call a meeting because we have problems."

Cassie's eyes pinched. "Tim, seriously, how are you not dead?"

"Why does everyone think I'm dead?" Tim grumbled. Cassie opened her mouth but Tim held up a hand. "Don't answer. There are questions on both sides and it will be easier if we do this all at once. We," Tim pointed at the Team, "are going to head up to the main ops room. Bring whoever is here up asap." Tim started to head towards the doors. "Also, keep the information that I'm here in the Tower. We have enough problems as it is."

He missed Cassie's quizzical look.

The Tower _looked_ as Tim remembered it but there was a sense of disassociation that Tim didn't understand. The Tower was a home to Tim, far more so than Drake Manor had ever been. He didn't understand why he felt loss instead of nostalgia. 

Behind him, Tim could hear the Team evaluating the Tower security. There wasn't much to criticize as Cyborg had designed the building, including the security, making the system near flawless. The Team had no valuable critiques so Dami had resorted to nitpicking how the system could fail under extremely specific and outlandish circumstances. Kon had made the mistake of engaging Dami with sincerity and Jay had taken to escalating the situation whenever he could.

“Would this building be able to withstand a large impact from a projectile?” Dami asked primly. 

“Yes!”

“Even if it was a large rubber duck?” Jay chirped. 

“Why would someone launch a rubber duck at the Tower?!”

Dami scoffed. “So you are admitting the building would not survive?”

Tim appreciated the background chatter, if only because it was tangible proof that Jay was willing to set aside Dami’s caustic remark until they at least got through this. 

Tim opened the door to the ops room and felt his chest clench. There had been a time in his life where this was one of the places he felt the most comfortable. Away from Other Bruce’s crushing expectations, surrounded by friends and doing something that everyone found to be useful. Things made sense here, Tim had control here. Even after he stopped being team leader his input was still seen as crucial. 

But now it was like walking into a room filled with cobwebs and insecurities. He’d left this place, and any sense of belonging it brought, behind him when he’d shed (when he’d been fired from) being Robin. He didn’t belong here anymore. Had he ever?

“Are you going to stand there all day?” Kon asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. 

Tim did what he was good at and faked a smile. “Just taking it all in. I didn’t think I’d see this place again.” He stepped into the room as he spoke, pulling up a chair that allowed him a view of the city. The Team flanked him, Jay and Conner taking closest to the door while Dami and Bart were on his other side. Dami kept glaring at the window, likely frowning at the audacity of it being clear enough for an enemy to see through. Given what Tim now knew about the League it was a fair judgement. 

Kon settled himself across the table from Tim. They sat there in an awkward silence for a few minutes before Tim spoke up. “So… what have the Teen Titans been up to? I heard a rumor that you’ve been making trouble for the League of Assassins?”

Surprise painted Kon’s face. "Yeah. We were protecting someone who had info on a doomsday device and the creator of the thing hired the League to take him out." He rubbed the back of his neck. "."We got a little proactive about the whole thing and its escalated from there.” Kon gave a ‘what can you do’ shrug that made Tim want to facepalm. It was like Kon had no idea just how dangerous the Ra’s Al Ghul was. 

“You do know that man once tried to murder everyone attached to the Bats simultaneously, right?”

Kon scratch his chin. “Cassie mentioned something about that.” He caught the look on Tim’s face. “We’re being careful.”

Tim fucking doubted that. 

“Tim!” Half the Team jumped to their feet as M’gann flung herself through the table to wrap her arms around Tim. 

Garfield walked in behind her, a knowing grin on his face. “Ha. I knew you weren’t dead. Bats are like cockroaches.” He tilted his head. “Why are there two Kons?”

“I’m Conner.”

“Why is Beast Boy so old?” Jay asked, mystified. 

“Hey!” Garfield protested. He lifted his hand up and down, showing himself off. “I’ll have you know that I am in the prime of my life. Old,” he scoffed, clearly offended. “Why are you even in here? Why is Robin so short?”

Cassie grabbed Garfield’s shoulders and steered him farther into the room so she could find a seat. KF Bart’s chair was suddenly just full off him. The Team sank back into their own chairs.

“That’s everyone,” Cassie said, linking her fingers together. “Now, Tim, can you please tell us what is going on, starting with how you aren’t dead?”

Tim huffed. “I was never dead. I’ve been in an alternate universe.” The table burst into a round of questions and Tim held up a hand, demanding silence. “Let me get through this and I will answer questions at the end.” Tim waited for everyone to nod before continuing. “This is the Team. That’s Conner, Jay, Dami, and Bart, who are from the alternate universe where I have been this last little while, helping out with computer security,” Conner and Jay both scoffed, “amongst other things,” Tim added, glaring at each of them. “Recently we,” Tim pointed at himself, Jay and Dami, “were attacked by that world’s version of Ra’s and while we were being rescued-”

“Tt. We were escaping. They were only witnessing our prowess.”

Tim kept his sigh internal. “While we were escaping, we were captured by Kon.”

“What?” Kon asked in puzzlement. “No, I-”

Tim cut him off. “Future Evil Kon.”

Jay frowned. “Who?”

Tim’s sigh was external this time. “Bart, please slap the next person to interrupt me.”

“Um, no?” said KF Bart. 

Bart threw a salute. “Aye aye, captain.”

“We were captured by Future Evil Kon, who brought us back to this dimension. He and the rest of the Future Evil Titans were plotting to make it appear as though Ra’s had beaten me to death so that the Teen Titans would kill him in revenge.”   
  


“But he’s basically immor-owe!” Cassie rubbed her shoulder, glaring at Bart. 

“The Future Evil Titans,” Tim went on, acting as though nothing had happened, “are the Titans that we,” he used a finger to indicate the Teen Titans, “met during an incident with time travel. We were temporarily stuck in their era, whereupon we discovered that we’d all grown up to be facist dictators who were ruling half of continental United State by murdering all of the criminals. 

“They attempted to erase our memories so we couldn’t prevent that future. It didn’t work. We escaped using the cosmic treadmill,” Jay raised his hand. “Time machine,” Tim added. Jay nodded. 

“Now somehow enough of that future has been preserved so they’ve come back to the past in order to restore what they believe is the rightful timeline. The easiest course of action to solve this whole mess is to get me back to the alternate universe, so I can’t invent a time machine so the Future Evil Us’s can’t come back to the past in the first place, thus preventing them from interfering. 

“Now,” he gave the room a firm look, “you can ask questions,” mouths opened simultaneously. “By raising your hands,” Tim added. 

Because she was the leader of the Teen Titans, Tim picked Cassie first. "What do you mean 'back to the alternate universe'? This is your home, Tim. We've all been mourning you and now that you are back you just what? Want to leave again? What the fuck?!"

Next time Tim was picking Cassie last. Or not at all.

"It is the easiest way to correct the timeline. We can't force the Future Evil Titans back to the future. We don't have the tech. Containing them would be nearly impossible as they develop our memories it would give them an advantage and they'd escape in no time. We don't know how long it will take the future to correct so we don't know how long we'd be stuck trying to imprison them and the Tower isn't designed for long term threat containment to begin with."

"Maybe we could send them to the alternate universe?" KF Bart added.

Dami scoffed. "They have already demonstrated that they have the ability to traverse dimensions."

"I also feel like sending versions of us who murder and graphically torture people to be another universe's problem is inherently antithetical to what it means to be a Teen Titan," Tim added sternly. 

"We could call in Nightwing," Garfield suggested.

"No!" Tim snapped. All the Teen Titans rocked back as though Tim had set off a small explosion. Tim counted to three and spoke a bit softer. "No Nightwing. No Bats. As far as they are concerned I'm not here."

"Dude!" Garfield's frown was etched in judgement. "Nightwing thinks you are dead. Like, I've answer midnight phone calls of him sobbing over you. I get that you can be cold but this is next level, even for you."

"Yeah, Tim," Cassie fired off, building on Garfield's momentum. "You're being cruel and you know it. Out of everyone I expected better from you. You're being selfish."

Tim felt something broken in his chest slide, slicing deep.

"You're being a bitch," Jay said casually. 

"Excuse me?" Cassie asked, her tone dangerous.

Jay looked her straight in the eye. It was like watching bulls square off. "A bitch. A shrew. A woman of ill temperament unsuited for civilized discourse."

Cassie slammed her hands on the table, standing to loom over Jay. "How dare you!"

Jay sat where he was and gave a wolfish grin. "I dare," he mocking drawled out the word, "because I know more than you do and if you were asking questions instead of blathering insults, you'd at least know enough to figure that calling in Nightwing and co was a bad idea."

Cassie frowned at Jay before turning to Tim with a quizzical look. "Tim, what's he talking about?"

Tim stared in panic. He hadn't thought about how to explain this. What was he supposed to say? 'Batman makes me sad'? Without Bruce standing beside Tim the words felt pathetic, small and useless. Did he really want to admit that Tim's relationship with the Bats had fallen apart because they found him unlovable? That he didn't want to see them because it would hurt and that scared him?

"What happens in Gotham stays in Gotham," Conner said, his voice wrought from iron. "The Bats stay out of this." 

Cassie eased back into her seat and Tim felt a wave of gratitude crash around him, for Jay, for Conner, for the Team. "Fine," Cassie grudgingly agreed, "but I still think you should tell them you're alive."

The slice in his chest started to bleed fire. "Batman knows I'm alive! He knows I've been in an alternate universe! Both times! He was fucking there when I fucking left and it isn't my problem that he has the communication skills of a dead fucking possum!" Tim stopped breathing, breathing heavily. When had he gotten to his feet?

"Okaaaay," Kon said slowly, eyeing Tim with trepidation. "So no Bats."

Cassie puffed out a breath, sending some stray hairs off to the side. "Fine, but we are still going to examine other courses of action that don't rely on sending Tim to the abyss."

"It's probably wise to explore all our options," Tim said tactfully, though the words tasted like dust.

A small hand twisted itself into the fabric of Tim's sweats. Tim carefully didn't look at it, but as soon as he settled back into his seat he placed his hand overtop of Dami's. It didn't cause the boy's grip to loosen. If anything, Dami twisted harder.

"Any other questions?" M'gann held up her hand. Tim acknowledged her with a nod. 

M'gann psychically reached out and Tim felt a brief curl of dread. (Why did they think we'd kill Ra's?) The look she gave Tim was frighteningly soft. She knew. She fucking knew. (What else did they do?)

(Nothing. They did nothing,) Tim thought back furiously.

(Did they… touch you?)

(No. No they fucking didn't. I've never been 'touched' and you really need to stay the hell out of Cass's mind.)

M'gann hunched in her chair. "She was broadcasting," she said aloud.

Tim scoffed. "We're done with questions. If you need me I'll be in my room." He turned, scooping Dami onto his and strode out of the room. 

He missed Bart point his fingers at his eyes and the towards the Teen Titans as he breezed out with the rest of the Team, but he did catch Garfield's parting comment.

"I don't think that went well."

No shit.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked reading it better than I liked writing it *eyes chapter with displeasure*. Kudos and comments are love and feel free to drop advice and spotted spelling mistakes.
> 
> Also, I really I am going heavier into canon than I did last fic, so some brief catch up. In canon Kon died fighting Superbly Prime and Bart was aged up and then killed by the Flash's rogue gallery rather anticlimactically. Both of them ended up in the 31st century through comic science with the Legion of Super-Heroes, who sent them back in time. 
> 
> The Future Evil Titans are a canon thing. At one point in a Teen Titan story line, Kon is on a date with Cassie and gets sucked into the future, comes back and they end up facing a bad guy with an axe or something that can cut through time. They join up with the Legion and beat him but there is a hiccup and the Teen Titans end up about 10 years in their own future and meets evil selves. They eventually escape to the past. 
> 
> There is totally a followup story a bunch of volumes later when the Future Teen Titans come back to the past with the intention of making the Teen Titans kill. It's entertaining and worth the read and wildly different from my story, as it occurs when Bart and Kon are both still dead. 
> 
> Worth checking out.
> 
> Catharina2003 is awesome and left this for your information:
> 
> 'The Teen Titans comic (with the time-travelling thing) mentioned is 'Superboy and the Legion' which is in Teen Titans (2003) issues 17 to 19 in case anyone wants to read that story.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim starts looking for ways back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started a discord server! Feel free to swing by!
> 
> https://discord.gg/c46SFN

Tim was dead. 

And dead people had their places. 

And the things of dead people had their places.    
  


Tim should have expected the empty room, the barren walls and the stripped bed, the complete sanitization of the space that had once been his. It had been cleaned and cleared, like a wound scraped clean. 

It was jarring, to know that he could be so easily set aside. It shouldn’t be. Tim had been on the other side of this equation often enough to know what the grieving process was like, but part of this stung deep. Not necessarily that he’d been buried, but that he’s been buried without a body. 

Other Bruce had come back. 

Bart had come back. 

_Kon_ had come back.

And in each and every one of those cases the world had been left with something to inter. But Tim ‘died’ and without a shred of evidence they place him in the ground and turn him into faded memory and heavy conversations. Or was it more like losing a favorite tool? He’d already been replaced but maybe it was still a pleasant surprise to find him again, to have a backup that felt familiar in hand.

How long would it take before they test him to see if he was still useful or if they should stick with Damian? 

How long would it take for Tim to be trapped here for Bruce and Dick to feel the same way? For them to realize he was more trouble than he was worth?

"Tim, you okay?" Jay's voice broke Tim out of his reverie. 

"Fine,” Tim smiled, his teeth tombstones the truth was buried under.

Jay frowned slightly but didn’t press. 

Bart walked forward and flopped face first onto the mattress. He rolled over to face the ceiling. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”

Right. They needed a plan. 

“We need more intel,” Conner said, situating himself against the wall, “see if anyone had been working on anything that might get us home.”

“Because we _all_ need to return home,” Dami said, his hands twitching in Tim’s shirt. 

Tim sat on the bed, rearranging Dami so the boy was on his lap. Dami wrapped his arms around Tim’s neck, pressing his face into Tim’s skin. “Yes, Dami. We aren’t going to leave anyone behind.” Tim had suspected that Dami was worried about getting trapped here, but he hadn’t realized it was this bad. He started to run his fingers through Dami’s hair. “I still have contacts here, but the more people we reach out to, the higher the risk of Other Bruce finding out I’m here.”

“How bad would that be?” Conner’s tone was grim.

Tim… didn’t know. What _would_ Other Bruce do? That would be based on what Other Bruce thought the problem was. “Confinement,” Tim muttered. Bruce wouldn’t allow the metas to wander free. He also thought Tim was compromised. “Deprogramming for me.” Either in Arkham or the Batcave. That depended on whether or not Other Bruce handled this as Bruce or Batman and if he was desperate enough, he might call in J’onn. 

Oh god, Jay and Dami. “He’ll probably try and claim Jay and Dami as his,” so he could live out his fantasy of saving Jason before he became a killer and molding him into who he’d had the potential to be. He wouldn’t allow Jay to stay retired and out of the cape game. 

He’d sculpt Dami into his next perfect Robin, using his age to chisel away at the parts of the boy that he didn’t find useful so he’d have a blood son with the viciousness of Damian but the desperate loyalty of Dick . 

Tim gave Conner a haunted stare. “It would be bad.”

“Well fuck,” Jay placed his hands on his hips. 

Conner nodded in agreement. “We’ll need to move fast. The Teen Titans don’t come off as useful.”   
  
Tim winced. “They operate under different parameters than the Team.”   
  
“Yeah, stupid parameters,” Conner grumbled. He sighed. “Get in touch with who you need to.” 

Pru would be his best option, but she’d need direction. “I think we should get in contact with John Constantine.”

“Oh shit!” Bart sat up straight. “Really?”

“You’ve met him?” Tim asked. 

Bart emphatically shook his head, holding his hands up defensively. “No! No way! If you valued your soul you didn’t set foot in the same city as Constantine.” There was an undercurrent of fear in Bart’s voice, one that Tim had never heard before. “The dude was the absolute mode.”

Conner raised an eyebrow. “He joined the Light?”

Bart shook his head. “He scared the Light.” Bart leaned forward, his voice dropping as though he was scared he’d summon the man by speaking of him. “Constantine didn’t care that the world ended, like it didn’t affect him at all. He did his own thing, the Light did theirs. The rebellion tried to recruit him and he just laughed. Then,” Bart leaned in even closer, “something changed. No one knows what. But one day he walked into L.A. and when he left _everyone_ in the city was dead.

“Including Vandal Savage.”

That… sounded exactly like how Constantine would handle the end of the world. 

Jay shook his head. “Oh no. Nope. We are not taking this route.”   
  
Tim rolled his eyes. “Bart’s from the post apocalypse. Everyone there was the most extreme versions of themselves. Constantine’s safe enough to talk to.”

“Safe like interrogating Khaldur or safe like reasoning with Klarion?” Conner asked. 

Tim shrugged. “Somewhere in the middle.”

“There is a lot of middle ground there!” Bart pointed out a bit hysterically. 

Jay threw up his hands. “Sure. This is a great idea! This is gonna be fucking swell. Tim’s going to go talk to what- the maddest of scientists?”

“Magic user, actually.”   
  


“Fuck you, Tim, you aren’t doing this.” Fuck you, Jay. Yes they were. Everyone needed to chill because they were _really_ overreacting. 

Dami leaned back, sliding himself off of Tim’s lap. He placed both his hands on Tim’s cheeks, forcing the older boy to meet his eyes. “Do you believe that this Constantine is the most expedient way of getting home?”   
  
Tim nodded. “I do.”

“And that you may speak to him without coming to harm?”

Tim didn’t look away. “Yes.”

Dami glanced around the room. “Then it is settled. Timothy will speak with this Constantine and then we shall return _home_.” There. At least Dami wasn’t blowing the situation out of proportion. 

Conner sighed. “Just tell me the odds of him trying to murder you on sight.”

“Zero.”

Conner pinched the bridge of his nose. “Zero because he doesn’t want to or zero because you are good at dodging?”

Tim wasn’t quite sure how to take that. He appreciated that Conner was praising his hard won fighting abilities but he was getting pissed that everyone was being so paranoid. Yes, Tim had an admittedly casual relation with the truth but he’d never downplayed the risks the Team faced when they went up against the Light. “John Constantine is not psychotic and I have done nothing to piss him off. He’s not going to randomly attack me if I show up on his doorstep. At worst, he’ll swear at me and slam the door in my face, okay? Now can we all relax?”

“Fine,” Conner said, “we’ll approach him but _I_ will be coming with you.”

Tim rolled his eyes again. “Alright. Fine. God, you are all paranoid.”

“Where will we find this Constantine?” Dami asked with a frown. 

“He travels a lot,” Tim admitted. “I’ll get in touch with Pru to see if she knows.”

“Tim,” Jay asked carefully, as though he already knew the answer. “Who is Pru?”   
  
Tim was proud he didn’t growl.. 

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Despite the fact that everyone was breathing down his neck, it took twenty minutes to figure out where the Titan’s had stashed his computer, forty minutes to get the rig running again, three hours to get a hold of Pru, sixteen hours for her to arrange a time to meet up and a ridiculous conversation to be let out of the Tower.

“It’s not safe to leave!” Cassie insisted. 

“I am a vigilante who was trained by some of the best martial artists on the planet, including Batman and Lady Shiva,” Tim said slowly. “By the time I was nine I was stealthy enough to follow Batman and Robin without either of them noticing me.”

“You were nine and running rooftops on Gotham?!” Jay asked a little hysterically.

Tim snapped. “Not the time, Jay.”

Jay pointed. “We are definitely revisiting that!” 

“You’ve just come back from being missing for months, Tim. Do you really think we’re just going to let you wander off?” Cassie said.

“I’m not ‘wandering off’,” Tim said in an exasperated huff. “I’m meeting a contact,” as viginlantes fucking do, “one whom I trust with both my life and my secret identity for lunch at a diner I’ve been to before in one of the safest parts of San Francisco. They have the location of a potential lead for ending this mess.”   
  
Cassie scoffed. “You mean for sending you away.” She took a step forward and placed her hand on Tim’s shoulder. It took everything he had to not twist her wrist. “We just got you back, Tim. We have Kon back and Bart back. We’re a team again.” She gave Tim a desperate look. “Why are you in such a hurry to leave us again?"

“I’m not!” He wasn’t! Is that what they all thought? That he was trying to abandon them? That he was that terrible? Tim blinked, Janet’s lessons holding back his tears.    
  
This wasn’t about the Titans. They were his friends, the best of his friends, but he had a duty! The Future Evil Titans would only stay quiet for so long and if Future Evil Tim killed anyone while here it would be Tim’s fault for not acting fast enough, for not being good enough to have remained sane in the first place. “I’m responsible for getting them home, Cassie.”

Cassie stared at Tim, studying him. He couldn’t tell what she saw but finally she gave a hard nod, letting her hand fall away. “You’re taking Kon with you.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Good,” Kon approached him from the side, draping an arm over Tim, “because this is totally a team up. We can swap stories about what’s happened since we’ve been apart!” That... could actually be fun. It would be nice to catch up with Kon. 

“I’m coming too,” Conner said, his arms crossed. 

“No you’re not,” Kon said with a frown. “You’ll cramp our style.” Tim pinched Kon’s fingers and lifted his arm through his hand, sliding out from under his grip. 

Conner didn’t budge. “My mission is currently to ensure Tim’s safety. Either Bart and I are going to be with him at any given moment.”   
  
Bart zipped to Conner’s side. “I could go! You lived in Hawaii, right? You could tell me about all the fruits they have! I bet they are delicious! What’s the best way to eat a coconut? Can you just eat a starfruit or do you have to cut it open? How can you tell if a mango-”

“Fine!” Kon cut Bart off. “Conner can come with us as long as he doesn’t get in the way.” He scowled at his counterpart. 

Conner just gave a nod. “Bart,” he said curtly, “you’re in charge of Jay and Dami. Stay together and stay in the Tower.”

“Got it, bossman.” Bart winked and saluted.

“Keep Tim safe,” Cassie order Kon and Tim bit down on his offense. They were just trying to help. Tim needed to keep that in mind. The Titans were his friends and they were trying to help.

“Yeah, I will,” promised Kon before he grabbed Tim by the wrist and dragged him out of the Tower. 

“Kon, let go,” Tim said as they walked up the path, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Kon had no intention of releasing his hold without prompting. 

“Nope!” Kon said, popping his p. “I do that and you’re liable to vanish into the wind.”

“I’m not going to vanish,” Tim promised, “but you seriously need to let go of my wrist.”

“Am I holding too tight?” Kon loosened his grip but it was still too tight for Tim to slip his hand free.

Tim could feel his flesh begin to crawl, the point of focus entirely on where Kon’s skin met Tim’s. His breathing was becoming heavy. Kon wasn’t trying to hurt Tim and it wouldn’t affect the Kryptonian anyway, but Tim wanted to push him away, or slug him or something to make him let go. “Kon, please!”

Kon paused in his steps, frowning at Tim. “Why are you acting like I’m going to hurt you?”

Tim was saved from replying when Conner slugged Kon in the face, surprising him enough for Tim to pull out of his grip. Kon turned to face Conner, his eyes carrying a telltale red. “What the heck was that?!”

Conner stepped into Kon’s space and stared him dead in his glowing eyes. “He told you to let go of him. You didn’t.”   
  
Kon balled his hands into fists, but the glow in his eyes faded away. “I wasn’t hurting him.”

“He told you to let go,” Conner repeated firmly. 

Kon relaxed his hands but Tim could tell that he did so consciously, not because the fight had gone out of him. “Fine. Sorry for touching Tim,” he said with a snide air. 

Conner stared at him for another moment. “Whatever. We’re going to be late.”

They were, in fact, mildly late. The walk from the bus stop and the diner wasn’t usually uncomfortably long, but Tim had never taken it with two guys who looked both like twins and models from a sports magazine. 

“Hey handsome,” a girl waiting beside them purred. “You two look like a good time.”   
  
“Yeah?” Kon asked with a knowing grin. “You should look in the mirror.” He tossed in a wink. 

She took a step closer to Conner. "How about you, talk, dark and broody? You know how to show a girl a good time?"

"No," Conner said flatly, retreating a step. Kon smirked at his discomfort. The girl was dressed for a night out in a dress that fit like a second skin and boots that stopped just before her knees.

"I bet the three of us would make one hell of a party," she took a step closer, placing one manicured finger on Conner's chest.

"Not interested." Conner took another step backwards. 

"Loosen up, 'bro'," Kon said. "We could show the lady a good time."

Oh for fuck's sake. Kon had a terrible sense of humor and he was clearly crossing one of Conner's lines. Biting back a sigh Tim stepped forward and entangled Conner's fingers with his own. "He's taken." 

"Oh!" She took a step back. "That's too bad." She gave Kon another look. "You're still welcome to come play." As she slipped Kon her number, Conner mouthed 'thank you' at Tim, a slight flush to his cheeks. She must have really bothered Conner.

Tim gave him the thumbs up in response. 

The second time it happened, Tim was faster at grabbing Conner's hand and by the third time Tim didn't bother to let go until they made it to the diner, which was probably for the best because Tim had seen at least one person suddenly veer away from the trio after they noticed the grip.

Despite being late, there was no sign of Pru.

Tim picked an empty booth in the corner, the one nearest the kitchen, and ordered himself a coffee. Conner took the inside seat at Tim's side and, with a frown, Kon sat opposite of Conner. They both ordered orange juice. 

By the time the drinks arrived there was still no sign of Pru.

"I thought you said she was reliable," Kon said, watching the door with intensity.

"She's reliable because she's not stupid. " And coming into a busy diner to meet with Tim while he was flanked by super muscle was a dumb idea. That was why she'd left instructions to meet him out back on his coffee napkin. "She'll be here soon enough. In the meantime, I have to go to the washroom," Tim said as he wiggled out from behind the booth. "Kon, order me another coffee if the waiter swings by while I'm gone."

"Sure thing," Kon said.

Conner gave Tim a suspicious look. "I'll come with you."

Tim rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to be ambushed in the next five minutes." Conner did not look convinced."I yell if I need saving," Tim promised. He walked off, showing the Kryptonians his back as he gave a wave.

No one gave Tim a second look as he walked through the kitchen to the alley door, which was always left unlocked. It was what he liked about this place. They looked away and asked no questions, like good Gothamites, though it was because the back alley was typically used for rich closeted men to have a gay hook-up instead of the risk of being sucked into a Rogue's latest scheme, but the end result worked for Tim. 

Tim stepped into a ridiculously clean alley that had some surprising amenities and stood in the centre. He gave it a minute before growing tired of the game. "Pru, I know you are behind the couch and I don't have all night."

Sure enough, Pru sprung up like a shooting gallery target, guns in hand and dour look in her eye. "Tell me something only we would know."

"Breaking your nose is the best way to become friends," Tim responded dryly. 

"Sod off," Pru snarled as she holstered her weapons. "Where the bloody hell have you been?"

"Alternate universe."

Pru didn't even flinch. "Suppose that's why you need Constantine." Tim nodded. "This ain't your brightest idea, Red. Constantine is a right bastard at the best of times and the people he helps tend to wind up worse than dead. He's nasty business."

Tim bared his teeth. "Sounds like that's my problem."

Pru snorted and her nose made a whistling noise. Tim wondered how many times it has been broken for it to do that. "Sure as bloody hell ain't mine." She shook her head. "You're lucky. He's in the neighborhood. He's got a place in San Diego." She handed Tim a card with an address scribbled on it.

"That's not exactly walking distance." 

"Well, it also ain't bloody fucking England."

"Point." Tim gave Pru a nod. "Thanks for your help. It might be the last time I ever need it."

"Planning on popping back to that other universe, eh?" She asked. "Probably for the best," she admitted. "You've got too many people looking for your head and you ain't got enough standing in your corner."

Tim felt his eyebrows raise, genuinely surprised. He knew Pru had to care on some level as she betrayed Ra's to help Tim out, but he thought she'd bite off her own tongue before admitting that. 

She caught his look and scowled. "Oi. You're either about to vanish forever or get killed off by Constantine. Either way I ain't gonna see your cheeky arse again. I'm allowed to get a bit soft over it."

Tim let a sincere smile cross his lips. "Thanks, Pru. It's been good working with you."

Pru flashed Tim the bird. "Get bent." So moment over. 

Pru jumped, using the wall to get high enough to hit the fire escape and disappear out of sight.

Tim made his way back to his seat. There was not a second coffee for him, but given how Kon and Conner were glaring and the way everyone seemed to be slowly edging away from the pair, it was easy to see why.

"Hey," Tim called. Kon's face broke into a smile but Conner turned his glare on Tim, his eyes hard with disapproval. "I've got an address."

"Sweet," Kon said, standing up eagerly. "Nearby?"

Conner moved slowly and with great deliberation, saying nothing until they left the diner. "You were supposed to take us as backup to meet your contact."

Tim shrugged to hide his growing temper. "She never would have shown." Conner was from a goddamn covert ops team. He knew the fucking score. 

"Then you should have told us that's what you were doing."

"Hey," Kon frowned, "easy. Tim knows what he's doing." Conner's expression said he wildly disagreed.

"What I'm doing," Tim interjected, "is booking plane tickets to San Diego."

Kon flexed his arms. "Why fly commercial when you can take the Kon express?"

"Conner can't fly," Tim said absently as he flicked through the phone he'd made Bart buy. It was shitty but it was better than nothing. 

"So just you and me go!" Kon said, circling so he stood in front of Tim. "We'll be there and back in no time at all."

Tim side-stepped. "I'm not going in costume so no carrying me around." Honestly, Tim would have preferred just bringing Conner. He had better focus, more wariness, and knew when to run, but Tim knew that the Titans would have a riot if he didn't take any of them. Cassie was probably the least likely to piss off Constantine but she was also the most likely to piss off Tim, given how she's been acting.

So Kon it was.

They made it around the corner when Tim spotted a man eyeing up Kon and Conner with greedy eyes. With a sigh, Tim held his hand out to Conner. 

Conner took Tim's fingers gently and gave a soft squeeze.

X-X-X-X-X

The building was nothing special. A little shabby, enough to know that the rent was cheap and the walls were probably thin, but it didn’t look like your car would be stolen if you parked it in the back lot. The hallway carpet was ugly, some shade of green that was popular in the eighties, and worn down to the point of being threadbare in places. The walls had yellowed and there were gashes along them, places where people had slammed furniture into the while moving, most likely. 

Constantine was on the fourth floor of the six story walk up, the farthest door from the stairs. 

Tim rapped on the door. 

“Sod off!” came the reply.

“Well, he seems pleasant,” Kon said. Conner kept staring at Tim with a scowl that would impress a gargoyle. 

Tim ignored them both and knocked again. 

“I bloody mean it! Bugger off.”

“Tim,” Conner said warningly.    
  
“I told you that he might swear and slam the door in my face.” Tim knocked again. 

“For fuck’s sake!” There was the sound of shuffling before the knob rattled. The door opened, a chain preventing them from seeing any more than half of Constantine’s face. “I don’t need a vacuum, I know exactly where I stand with God, and I hate thin mints. Now get stuffed!” He tried to slam the door but Tim had slid his foot in the way.   
  
“I’m not here to sell, Mr. Constantine,” Tim said in his best CEO voice, “I’m here to buy.”

“Bloody hell,” Constantine snarled. “And I suppose you aren’t going to stop pounding on my door until you’ve got what you’ve wanted, eh?” He studied Tim for a moment. “Fine. I’ll give you five minutes before I tell you to go fuck yourself.” Constantine closed the door, undid the chain. He threw it open and motioned them inside with an impatient look. 

Tim stepped in, taking note of potential exits and weapons. The apartment looked relatively normal. There were clothes strewn across the floor and a laptop sitting innocuously on a coffee table. A few dirty dishes, a dog eared take-out menu, and some spell tombs were also scattered about.    
  
“Either get in or get out. I’m freezing my bollocks off here.” Tim turned to see that both Kon and Conner were stopped in the doorway, staring at Constantine.    
  
Tim raised an eyebrow and Conner took a few steps into the apartment, his wide eyes still fixed on Constantine. After a moment of hesitation, Kon did the same, his expression mirroring Conner’s.

“’Bout bloody time.” Constantine redid the lock. He stomped into his kitchen, grabbing a glass off counter and filling it with an amber liquor he pulled from the fridge. He downed it in one shot. “Now, let me guess. You’ve got some humdrum teenage problem and you think a little bit o’ magic is going to fix you right up. Bad grades? Not high enough on the social ladder?” He gave Tim a look up and down. “Or are you to sell your soul for a couple of quid?”

“It’s a bit more serious than that,” Tim said dryly, letting Constantine set the pace. 

“Um, Tim?” Kon asked, taking a nervous step towards the boy. “Are we just going to ignore that fact that he’s naked?”

Tim shrugged. “He’s wearing socks.”

Conner snorted. “Socks are not clothes.”

“Fuck you. You’re the ones who barged into my flat without a bloody invitation. I ain’t doing nothing to protect your delicate sensibilities.”

“It’s irrelevant,” Tim pointed out. 

“It’s pretty distracting,” Kon countered. 

Tim snarled. FIne. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “I’ll give you a hundred dollars to put on some pants.” It was a fucking waste of Tim’s backup cash,but he wasn’t going to get anywhere while the Superboys gawked awkwardly.    
  
He should having fucking brought Jay.

Constantine snatched the bill from Tim’s hand, given it a glance. “Fine.” He pulled a pair of pants up off the floor and started sliding into them. “So pretty boy’s got money. What is it that you can’t buy? Looking to do something daft then, like speak with the dead? Or does your pretty little face comes with a shit personality and you’re looking to get your dick wet?”

  
Both Superboys snorted and Tim felt the corner of his lip twitch. “The dead are good at looking after themselves.” This time it was Constantine’s turn to snort. “And if I needed to be tricked into feeling better about myself I would have paid some charlatan down the street to tell me what I want to hear. I need real magic.” Tim met Constantine’s eyes, matching the older man’s intensity. “I need a portal to an alternate universe.”

Constantine scoffed. “Knew it would be something daft.” He finished buttoning up his pants. “Can’t be done, mate. Magic’s got rules and that’s well outside them.” He started to pull on his shirt.

“Oh,” Tim said casually. “Zatanna’s done it.” Evil Zatanna and it nearly killed Tim, but she still did it. 

Constantine froze mid button. He squinted at Tim, looking him up and down. “You’re a bloody fucking cape,” he accused. 

Tim shrugged. 

“I told your bloody League no and I bloody well meant it. You said Zee did it? Then go ask Zee.”

Tim’s eye twitched as his insides burned with rage. He wanted to haul back and punch Constantine in the teeth. “If I wanted to fucking talk to the League about this I’d be talking to them instead of your snarky ass, but I need this done off of their radar. We know it can be done and I’ll pay you to figure out if you’ve got what it takes to pull it off.”

Constantine let his hands fall, not even bothering to try to finish with his button up. “How much money are we talking?”

“As you said, a pretty boy like me’s got money. Name your price just to look. If you figure out that you can do it, I’ll pay you triple to try.”

Constantine’s eyes narrowed. “Thirty thousand, cash up front. Send it to my PayPal.” He lifted his chin and Tim could tell the man was trying to call his bluff. 

Tim wasn’t bluffing. He lifted his shitty phone and logged into one of the many accounts where he’d squirrelled away money. Constantine’s phone dinged and the man looked at his notifications, eyebrows raised.    
  
“Bloody hell,” he grumbled. “I suppose this is time sensitive?”

“The sooner the better,” Tim agreed.

“Fine. I’ll give’er a look but I make you no promises that I’ll find anything. Give me your number and then get the bloody hell out of my flat.”

They stepped out into the hall and the door slammed behind them. 

Tim gave a satisfied hum. “That went well.”   
  
Conner facepalmed. 

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Tim stepped off the plane, wearing his gala smile to hide how much he wanted to cry. The kid behind him had spent the entire flight kicking his seat and his phone battery had died and he hadn’t brought an extra cord and Kon had kept elbowing him whenever he said something that he thought was funny and it was the worst flight he’d ever been on and he was never setting foot in an airplane again.

The fact that the airport was busy and people kept jostling Tim wasn’t helping at all. They were getting weird stares because Kon was complaining loudly about flying commercial instead of acting like a normal fucking human. Worse, the Tower was probably going to be just as unbearable because the Team and the Titans were both going to try and monopolize his time while sniping at each other instead of letting him figure this out. He wanted to find the nearest bathroom and lock himself in a stall until everyone just went away. 

“Tim, you okay?” Conner asked, concern painted all over his face.    
  
“M fine,” Tim rubbed the heel of his hand into one of his eyes. “Just tired.”

The furrow between Conner’s eyebrows deepened, but Tim would never know if Conner had intended to add to that statement because a deep voice cut interrupted the conversation. 

“You always did have lousy sleep habits.” A hand wrapped itself around Tim’s bicep. 

Tim turned, feeling his face pale. Behind them stood a large figure, a tight black shirt stretch across his muscled chest. Tim had to tilt his head to look the man in the face. 

It was Future Evil Kon. 

“Let him go!” Kon growled.

Conner put a restraining hand on his shoulder and Future Evil Kon pulled Tim a little closer. “Are we seriously doing this here?” Kon was evil, but surely he wasn’t so far gone that he’d start a battle in a crowded airport. There were too many civilians here for that to even approach a sane idea. 

“We’re just having a conversation,” Future Evil Kon said amiably. His grip was bordering on painful. “Let’s go grab a bite.” He strolled off causally, dragging Tim along. Kon and Conner followed half a step back, both of them ready to spring into action the moment Tim wasn’t in danger of losing an arm. 

True to his word, Future Evil Kon dragged Tim to one of the airport restaurants, bypassing the host to go to a table that already had an occupant. 

Future Evil Tim. 

Tim could feel his heart pounding in his ears. He knew Future Evil Tim was injured as even Tim couldn’t walk off a crowbar through the leg. The cane leaned up the table was a testament to the man being in pain, but Tim also knew that his greatest threat wasn’t his body but his mind. Plus he had Future Evil Kon so it wasn’t like Future Evil Tim was entirely without muscle.

Tim was forced into the chair right across from his future self, Future Evil Kon still gripping his arm tight. In response Conner sat beside Future Evil Tim while Kon took the head of the table. 

“Relax,” Future Evil Tim said, sipping his coffee. “We are just here to have a conversation.”

“I don’t feel much like talking to you,” Tim said snottily. Future Evil Kon gave his arm a warning squeeze. 

Future Evil Tim spotted Tim’s flinch. “Oh, let go, Kon. We’re all friends here.” Future Evil Kon let go, but Tim could feel his reluctance with how long it took. Admittedly, he appreciated Future Evil Tim’s interference. If this were a cartoon he’d have a handprint dented into his arm. 

“So, Tim,” Future Evil Tim leaned forward. “It must be nice to be back, with Kon and Bart both here. You’re not too distracted to spend some quality time with them, are you?” Tim didn’t react. Future Evil Tim was trying to manipulate him, was trying to play on his emotions. 

It was working. A cold bolt of guilt shot through Tim’s stomach. He _hadn’t_ been spending time with Kon and KF Bart. He’d been too distracted by the need to get the Team back, his own need to go back to Bruce. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to get reattached Kon and KF Bart, that he didn’t want it to hurt so bad when he left again, but he hadn’t been going out of his way to hang out with any of the Titans.

Future Evil Tim gave a nod. “We were always so smart but never knew how to prioritize. For example,” a waitress approached, setting food in front of everyone at the table. Tim found himself staring at a bowl of soup, “when was the last time you ate?”

Conner tensed, giving Tim a suspicious eye while Kon just looked confused. “Garfield made breakfast.”

“But did Tim eat breakfast?” Future Evil Tim asked mildly and Tim winced. He had not. “And did he have supper the previous day?” Also no. “Tim, _when_ was the last time you ate?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Tim kept his voice hard as flint but he could see that Conner was not going to let this go. Fuck you very much, Future Evil Tim. “What matters is we are going to prevent you from existing.”   
  
Future Evil Tim gave a resigned sigh. “So stubborn.” He took another sip of his coffee before setting the cup back on the table. “You’ve concluded that killing is always wrong, but you’ve forgotten that a conclusion is just the place where you got tired of thinking. If you stopped so being resistant and actually thought the matter through, not as Robin, not as someone sculpted by Batman, but as your own individual, you’d understand the necessity.”

“‘I won’t kill until I have the power to give life.”

Future Evil Tim shook his head fondly. “Killing criminals _is_ giving life. Killing is making the ultimate difference, Tim. It ends the cycle. For every Joker I kill, every future victim of his lives. If Bruce had killed that monster the first time he escaped Arkham, Jason would have lived. Everyone Jason killed would have lived. We may not have the number, may not be able to take an accurate count, but we know we’ve done good.”

Tim scoffed. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”   
  
Future Evil Tim met Tim’s eyes with a fierce sincerity. “I sleep better than you do.” He grabbed his cane. “Enjoy your soup, Tim. I’ll be seeing you soon.”

Tim barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Constantine, not gonna lie. I just plowed through Constantine: Hellblazer. It was awesome. 
> 
> Also, I am crap at tagging so if anyone has any tags they wished I'd used, just lemme know. And as always, feel free to point out spieling mistakes or word substitutions. I know my weaknesses. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the story! I appreciate the kudos and the comments. Sorry I haven't really gotten back to most of you, but if I'm not responding I'm definitely writing!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Universal differences make themselves known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, come check out the discord and meet like minded Tim fans!
> 
> https://discord.gg/c46SFN

Tim’s mouth tasted like bile and coffee. Needless to say, he did not eat the soup. And despite the temptation he also didn't break down into a sobbing mess, so that counted as a victory. Conner didn't say anything as they hopped in a taxi but Kon leaned back, clearly impressed. "He's even scarier than I remember."

Tim shuddered as he fought back dry sobs.

Conner gave a soft growl. "Not the time." He gave a meaningful glance at Tim whose jagged edges were all exposed. 

"Oh, right!" Kon said hastily. “Um, how are the Gotham Knights doing?” Tim let out a broken laugh while Conner’s eyebrows crawled into his hairline. “In the other universe!” Kon exclaimed. “I mean, you wouldn’t have followed their season here and I know that! Of course I know that.”

God, that was just so Kon. “They got slaughtered in the regular season.”   
  
“So they aren’t any better there?”   
  
“I think they might be worse,” Tim confessed. “Any news from Hawaii?” Tim asked, trying to steer the conversation into safer ground. Future Evil Tim had been right, Tim had been ignoring Kon. This was a safe way to catch up a bit with the other boy. 

The taxi took a turn a little too fast and Tim tilted into Conner. He could feel his muscles relaxing against the heat of the Kryptonian’s body and decided that maybe just laying there was probably a good idea. Conner didn’t loop an arm around Tim’s shoulders, thank goodness, but he didn’t push Tim away either. Tim took it as tacit permission and rested against Conner for the rest of the trip while Kon rattled off how badly he’d freaked out all his old friends when he’d shown up at their annual meet up. Someone had thrown a coconut. 

They were dropped near a café and walked the rest of the way to the Tower and Kon switched to Teen Titan stories. “We met Condiment Man,” Kon said. “I know you’d mentioned him before but I was not prepared.”

“Oh yeah?” Tim said, hands in his pocket. “What was he doing away from Gotham?”

Kon snorted. “Protesting. Apparently the brand of ketchup he uses changed their tomato supplier so he showed up to make them change it back.”

Tim shook his head. That man was such a pest. 

As they approached, the Tower looked intact. No trampled garden, blown windows, or holes from giant rubber ducks. There were no raised voices as they stepped inside and took the elevator up to the common floor. The moment they stepped out the room filled with yelling.    
  
“You are a skanky back stabbing bitch and I hope you die in a fire!” 

Tim bolted towards Jay’s voice. The Team and the Titans sat surrounding the table, Jay’s face flushed and snarling while Cassie smirked triumphantly. Between them all lay a board game.

Tim placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heart slowing as he took the scene in. Jay was the only one who looked truly upset, though Bart and Dami both looked bored out of their skulls. KF Bart had given up completely and was playing on the latest hand-held gaming system as he waited for his turn. Garfield, Cassie and M’gann were all concentrating on the game. 

M’gann was the first one to notice them. “Hi, Tim!” she smiled, setting her hand on the table and rushing over to him. She threw her arms around him, dragging him into a quick hug. “How were things with Constantine?”

“That man,” Kon said with emphasis, “is an _ass_.”

Tim shrugged. “It went well enough. He’s going to look into solutions.”

Cassie narrowed her eyes. “Solutions for stopping the Titans or solutions for sending you back?”

Conner stepped in front of Tim. “Tim hasn’t eaten.” The Team raised their heads in unison, like meerkats on high alert. 

Tim glared. “Snitches get stitches.” Conner didn’t look fazed. Stupid Kryptonian skin.

Cassie snorted. “Yeah, Tim’s a bit of a caffeine gremlin. I swear he’s gone a week on nothing but coffee.” 

The tension amongst the Team ratcheted up a notch and Jay stood, abandoning the game. “Tim, when was the last time you ate?” he asked, his voice dead serious. 

Conner stepped back and pushed Tim a little forward, like a child being positioned to be scolded. Fitting the role, Tim kicked at something invisible with his foot as he kept his gaze down. “I’ve eaten,” he equivocated. He had eaten. Just not for a while.

“When was the last time someone saw Tim eat?” Jay looked around the room, including the Teen Titans in his gaze. 

“He had coffee this morning,” Garfield chimed up. 

Jay shook his head. “Coffee and energy drinks do not count. Has anyone seen Tim eat real food today?” Everyone shooks their heads. “Last spotted meal?” More silence. “Tim, I swear to god if those scones at the Kents’ were the last thing you ate I’m going to kick your ass.”

Bart frowned, drumming his fingers on the table. “Did you even eat your scone? I know I handed it to your but did you actually take a bite?”

Busted. 

“Um, wow,” KF Bart looked around, picking up on the intensity. “You guys are taking this Very Seriously.”

Jay scowled. “We take Tim’s health very seriously.”   
  
Cassie scoffed. “He’s not a small child. In the eyes of the law Tim’s an adult. He can take care of himself.”   
  
As one, the Team scoffed and Tim could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He scuffed the toe of his shoe to hide his growing embarrassment. “Tim,” Jay emphasized his name, as though they could be talking about someone else in the room, “needs the support of his _family_ to keep himself alive.”

Kon crossed his arms. “We’re his family,” he growled. 

Dami slid down from his chair, marching over to Tim like a man with something to prove. He grabbed Tim’s hand and started to tug him along. “Come Timothy. Pennyworth has been teaching me about soups. We shall see what is in the pantry and then I shall make you one and you _will_ ,” the was punctuated by an adorable glare, “eat it.”

“We have leftovers from lunch?” M’gann volunteered. “That would be faster.”   
  
Dami sniffed at her. “Acceptable. You shall fetch the meal.” He dragged Tim to the table and sat him in Dami’s seat before crawling into Tim’s lap, trapping Tim.

Tim sighed. “Dami, you can’t just order people around.”

“It’s okay, Tim.” M’gann smiled.   
  
“And you cannot go for days without eating, yet here we are,” the boy said snottily. 

Well, he had Tim there. 

Jay followed M’gann to the kitchen, grumbling about stupid little brothers. Thoroughly abandoned, KF Bart cleared the game away. Everyone else sat awkwardly, staring at Tim.

“Soooooo,” Tim said, trying to dispel the heavy atmosphere, “Seen any good movies?”

“Oh, I saw the last movie in the Space Battles trilogy. I can’t believe they killed off my favorite character.” KF Bart dramatically held his hands over his heart, his elbows jutting out as he swooned backwards. 

Tim could feel his face fold into confusion. “Nobody died.” The ending had been a bit sappy for his taste. 

The Titans gave him a look. “They totally killed Spense. Did you sleep through that scene or something?”

“They gave him the ship at the end and he flew off with Mala,” Tim argued. 

The Titans blinked. Tim blinked. 

Garfield gasped. “Alternate universe means alternate movie takes! Tell. Me. Everything.”

Surprisingly enough, Conner had the most cinematic knowledge. Dami had been raised by assassins, Jay preferred books, and Bart had been too busy being from the future to catch up with Hollywood classics. Tim listened as he ate, internally noting which movies he wanted to compare and contrast. When M’gann started asking about her favorites everything got awkward again, which made sense. Conner had probably watched those movies with M’gann before they’d broken up. 

“You guys haven’t even mentioned the best show!” Kon said, vibrating enthusiastically. “Wendy the Werewolf Stalker.”

Conner stiffened and Jay pulled a face, the room growing awkward once more. “You like that trash?” Jay asked, judgement across his face.

“Oh,” Kon deflated. “It’s not good there? Did they cut corners on production there?”

“It was pulled second season because Wendy raped her boyfriend and the writers played it like that was okay.”

“No she didn’t,” Kon tilted his head. “I mean, chicks can’t really rape a guy.” Tim felt his world fuzz at the edges, his vision draining to black and the scent of perfume and ash filling his nose. He wanted to stand, wanted to run, but he was shackled in place.

“He wanted to hold off, she found him drunk at a party and they fucked. That’s rape.”

“Yeah, but they were dating,” Kon argued. “So it wasn’t really.” 

His chest heaved, his ribs slamming into the warm body that was sitting across his lap. He bit his lip as candle light flickered in his vision. He didn’t catch Jay’s next words, just his frosty tone.

The weight was removed from Tim’s lap and a hand grabbed his shoulder, pushing him through the black. The floor beneath his feet started to vibrate and Tim blinked, his eyes clearing to find himself in an elevator. Conner was the only other occupant.

“Are you back?” He asked softly. 

“Yeah,” Tim gasped, his voice thready. He tried again. “Yeah, I’m here.” He pulled in another deep breath and let it out slowly. “I suppose you’ve figured it out.”

“I’ve known since we were portalled over. I have super hearing,” Conner gently reminded Tim, “and I keep an ear out for my people. You’re part of that, Tim.”

Tim shuddered and looked away. “Nothing really happened. I didn’t even lose my clothes.”

“That doesn’t mean nothing happened,” Conner said, keeping his voice even the way he did when talking to children. “I’m not going to press you into talking, but I’m always here for you, Tim. I’ll always listen.”

Tim blinked and stared off to the side, unable to meet Conner’s eyes. “Did I give myself away?”

“No. They didn’t even notice us leave. The Barts are currently mediating the fight.”

Tim’s shoulders relaxed. “Okay. Okay...”

“You’re going to go to bed now.” Despite the caring tone, it was definitely an order. “If you need anything, all you have to do is call my name.”

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Conner stepped out into the hallway, walking along and disappearing into the room they’d set up for him. Tim sighed and went back to the blankness that had once been his own space. Someone had found bedding for him, crisp white sheets and a wine dark comforter, and Tim changed into the pyjamas that Bart had picked up when Tim had sent him shopping with his alias’s credit card. Wearily, he crawled into the bed without even brushing his teeth.

Despite the fatigue he could feel in his bones, sleep didn’t come as easily to Tim as the tears did. He kept rolling from side to side, clutching his pillow over his face to smother, breathing in the must gathered from where the damn thing must have been kept in storage. 

Any hitching sound Tim might make was strangled by the fabric. It didn’t cover crying as well as a shower but it would do a good enough that anyone who passed by his door wouldn’t hear him. It had always worked on Janet. Tim knew because she had never been one to miss an opportunity to stamp out Tim’s weaknesses. It wouldn’t do to have an heir who cried like a baby at the slightest provocation. 

But apparently it wasn’t working because Tim head his door open, felt his bed dip under someone’s weight and for a foolish and desperate moment he wished it was Bruce and that none of this was happening.

As though wishing ever changed anything.

The person sighed and Tim recognized the sound as coming from Conner. “This is what I meant about calling if you needed me.”   
  
“I’m fine,” Tim whispered, tears and snot sticking to his pillow. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Conner shifted the bed. “Do you want me to stay here for the night?”

“Yes.” The word bypassed Tim’s brain and came straight out his mouth without any permission whatsoever. He wanted to swallow it back even if it meant choking on it, but that wasn’t how life worked. 

The bed shifted as Conner made himself comfortable, keeping to the far edge. “I’m not going to touch you, but I’ll be right here if you need me.”

They laid in the dark, their soft breathing interrupted only by the occasional hitch of Tim’s breath. 

Tim bit his lip. “It would be okay, you know.”   
  
“Mm?” Conner asked sleepily. 

“If you were closer.”There was a beat of silence and Tim jammed his eyes shut, wishing he could take back the words. 

“Oh. Okay.” Conner shuffled closer. “Is this good?”

Tin nodded. “Yeah.” Screwing up his courage he rolled, sliding his face against Conner’s chest. Conner went stiff. “Is this… is this okay?” Tim stuttered. “Because I can move.”   
  
A warm arm wrapped itself across Tim, a wide hand bracing his back. “This is okay.”

“Cool.” Tim said, placing his ear against Conner’s chest so he could listen to the steady beat of the Kryptonian’s heart.

“Yeah.” He couldn’t see Conner’s gossamer smile. “Cool.”

X-x-x-x-x-x-x

Tim felt safe. 

He felt safe and he didn’t want to get out of bed because he knew the moment he left this space he wasn’t going to feel safe anymore and he was just so tired of all of life’s bullshit. 

As though he could hear Tim’s racing thoughts, Conner gave Tim a light squeeze. “Morning,” Conner said softly, playing with the fringe of Tim’s hair. “Did you sleep okay?”

More than okay. As a vigilante Tim was used to his own brain haunting him but last night it was blessedly silent and Tim would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that Conner’s presence had something to do with it. An important thought, one to be filed away and dusted off when they weren’t worried about imminent disaster. 

“Mm hm,” Tim hummed. He could feel his brain whirring to life, all the potential horrors of the day cycling up and demanding solutions and Tim said goodbye to feeling safe and hello to being awake. “Thanks.”

  
“Anytime,” Conner said, letting Tim go as he pushed away from Conner so he could stretch, his body popping in all the usual places. Conner propped himself up on his elbow and seemed content to watch the process. “You know what happens next?”

Tim froze. 

“Breakfast.”   
  
Okay. That didn’t go where Tim was scared it was going to go. “As long as there is coffee,” Tim grumbled.    
  
Conner pushed himself into a sitting position. “You get however much coffee Jay says you can have and you only get it after you’ve had something real to eat.”

“Such harsh taskmasters,” Tim lamented. “Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you at the elevator.”

“Don’t even think of trying to escape.”

“Yes yes,” Tim said dismissively. “Now get out.”

As it turned out, Conner beat Tim to the elevator, though it might have just been because Tim had really needed to brush his teeth. They rode down together in comfortable silence, Conner giving Tim some time to pull up all his masks. By the time they hit the common floor Tim was feeling positively upbeat. 

He made it three steps off the elevator before his mood crashed down and shattered at his feet. 

All the Teen Titans were sitting around the table, looking as grim as Tim had ever seen them. Jay was trembling, his eyes burning with a rage that Tim associated with Jason right before someone was about to get hurt very badly very fast. 

He had Dami wrapped in his arms, the boy pale as his eyes darted around anxiously. They settled on Tim but that didn’t seem to ease Dami. If anything it caused him to shrink further into Jay. 

The pair were flanked by Cassie and Kon, an intentional threat and Tim felt acid burn through his veins. They were a team of superheroes and Dami was just a little kid. 

Bart was sitting by KF Bart, looking as relaxed and carefree as he usually did. The moment he made eye contact with Tim his eyes flicked into the kitchen. 

“Tim!” There, sitting on the kitchen counter and eating cereal from a bowl sat Richard Fucking Grayson. 

Tim's eyes slid back over Teen Titans, his body deceptively relaxed. He scanned their faces for reactions, trying to catalogue who’d sold him out. It was like staring down a wall, a united front made of stone and stubbornness. This must be what villains looked at before thoroughly getting their ass kicked. 

Grayson hopped off the counter and glided over to Tim, wrapping him in a tight cloying hug, his hands practically everywhere.    
  
Well, it looked like he hadn’t brought Damian. 

Grayson pulled back, his fingers burrowed into Tim’s shoulders. “We all thought you were dead!”

"I've been getting that a lot lately." So Other Bruce hadn't told Grayson. Typical. And when Grayson learned he was going to be okay with it because he was the priest who worshipped at Other Bruce's alter.

Tim brought his hands up, knocking Grayson’s away. “What do you want, Dick?’

Grayson blinked at Tim, his eyes oozing hurt. “Is that all you’ve got to say?”   
  
What more was there?

“It is, isn’t it?” Grayson said, horror in his voice. “You really did intend to leave without saying anything, without telling us that you were alive. Why would you do that, Tim? You saw Bruce after Jason. You know perfectly well what Bruce was like after losing him! And you willingly did that to Bruce? To your father?”

Tim scoffed, lava filling his veins. “Bruce loved Jason. He only ever tolerated me.”

Grayson looked like he’d been slapped. “How could you say that? How could you even _think_ that?” 

“I’m a fucking detective, Dick!” Tim snarled, his tongue tingling with acid. “You think that I lacked the ability to tell that I wasn’t wanted? Between Damian and Jason trying to murder to me, you ignoring me and Bruce judging me I was well aware that I was the interloper! I am a fucking genius!”

“I’ve never ignored you!”

Tim’s laugh was made of nightmares and spiderwebs. “You’re right. You just never cared enough to believe me.”

Grayson sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dear God, this is about Bruce being missing.” He held out a hand, gesturing calmly. “Tim, you have to admit you sounded crazy. I mean, lost in time? Even you can admit that it was an absurd theory.”   
  
“There are literally two people from the future in this room! I’ve been to the thirty first century! JASON LITERALLY CAME BACK FROM THE DEAD!” Tim screamed. “You talk about this as if there is no fucking precedent and I. WAS. RIGHT!” Tim slumped burying his hands into his face to hide the tears that had started to stream from his eyes. “I was right and you never apologized, never even said the words. It was all, ‘that’s interesting, that’s good to know, let’s go find Bruce.’ How about ‘good job, Tim, I’m sorry I threatened you with Arkham, Tim.’”

“Tim-”

Tim cut Grayson off with a razor’s sharpness, wiping at his eyes. “And Damian’s a little bastard who hates me and you do nothing to mitigate that. He can say whatever the fuck he wants and you just tell me to be the adult while giving him a head pat.”   
  
“You’re older than him!” Grayson defended. 

“And you feed his bullshit.” Grayson opened his mouth but Tim plowed on. “Would you have hugged me if he’d been here?”   
  
The silence was condemning. 

“He was raised by assassins-”

“I am aware!” Tim yelled, no longer bothering to try and hide his tears. “I picked it up when he stabbed me and then tossed me down three stories. I understood when he cut my fucking grappling line mid swing! And you! You showed up to bitch about the location of our fight instead of telling Damian that murdering me was not allowed! Not once have you told him that he’s not allowed to kill me!” Tim’s shoulders were shaking with how hard he was sobbing. 

“No!” Grayson denied. “It’s not like that! It’s never been like that! They’ve gotten into your head, Tim.” Tim shook his head so violently his body twisted with it but Grayson carried on. “We love you! I love you! You know that! You told me that you knew I’d catch you because I’d always have your back!”   
  
“I WAS LYING AND I WISH YOU’D NEVER CAUGHT ME!” 

Grayson sucked in a breath to speak and something warm was placed over Tim’s ears, muffling the sound of the room. 

“This conversation is over,” growled Conner, the sound distorted. 

Grayson gnashed his teeth. “You stay out of this!” 

“It’s my job to keep my Team safe. Tim is a member of that and you’re hurting him. This conversation is done.”

Cassie stood, slamming her palms onto the table. “Tim’s a world class liar and he’s sick. You think he really has any feelings for the people in your universe? He’s just using you to replace us.”   
  
“He’s not!” argued Dami before Jay put a hand over the boy’s mouth, trying to keep him out of the fight. 

Cassie gave the room a stern look and Tim knew what she was trying to say and he couldn’t stop her from destroying everything. 

“He tried to clone Bart and Kon.”

Kon stood. “What?” He looked Tim dead in his eyes. “Is this true?”

“Dude,” KF Bart said softly, “That’s super messed up.”

Conner’s hands slipped away and another violent sob poured from Tim’s mouth. They’d never understand. Even now he barely understood, but he owed them an explanation. “Everyone was dead.”   
  
“I know,” Kon said coldly. “I was there when I died.”   
  
“No!” Tim snapped. “ _Everyone_ was dead. You, Bart, Darla, Steph, Dad, Dana, Bruce. Even Fake Uncle. Cassie had joined a fucking cult and Dick was too busy dealing with Damian and I was alone. I had no one. Nothing. And I wanted you back. 

“I understand,” he whispered. “I get how fucked up I was, how dark of a place I had fallen to. I know they wouldn’t have been you and in the end I didn’t. I was just so alone.” Tim wrapped his arms around himself, his fingers itching as he twisted them into his shirt. 

“Tim,” Cassie said quietly, “you need help.”   
  
Tim scoffed. “So you did what you always do when I tell you secrets. You’ve gone running to Dick so he can smash everything with a smile and pretend that he solved the goddamn problem.”   
  
“You told me that anti-life equation made sense!”   
  
“I was depressed!” The edges of Tim’s vision were going dark. 

“Tim,” Grayson tried again. “I love you. Just come home.”   
  
“I can’t- I ca- I-” 

It was like blinking. Tim had been yelling at Dick. No, Grayson. He’d been fighting with Grayson and now he was on the ground, the hardwood floor cold against his cheek. He could feel that people were crowding him as surely as he could feel the steel hands pressing him into place. 

In the background Dami was screaming his name. 

“-im, Tim. Tim, are you with me?” It was one of the Barts. Tim focused, trying to figure out which one. Tan, Impulse. His Bart. 

“Yeah,” he said. His mouth hurt, his cheeks feeling as though they had been cut. “What,” happened?

The hands holding him down eased up and he was pulled up against someone’s chest into a sitting position. “You had a seizure.”

Okay. Conner. Conner was safe. That was good. 

“Why didn’t you say he was sick?” Grayson demanded. 

“If we’d known he was going to twitch out we wouldn’t have let him in a hundred feet of you!” Jay snapped. “Hey Dami. Tim’s okay. Tim, tell Dami you’re okay!”

“I’m okay,” Tim said. Not his most convincing effort. 

Dami continued to cling to Jay and weep. 

“We need to get Tim up to medical,” Cassie ordered. Conner adjusted Tim, lifting him bridal style. 

Seizure. Why would Tim have a seizure? “This was not a problem he had in the future,” Bart fretted. 

“It could be environmental,” KF Bart explored, hand on his chin. “Exposure to a microbe or toxin. Maybe even magic.”   
  
“Did anything weird happen with Constantine?” Cassie snapped, fully immersed in her role as team leader.

Kon snorted. “Everything about that was weird. But we also got pinned by Gun Batman at the airport. He tried to feed us.”   
  


Grayson looked at the Titans. “Drugged?”

The Team stiffened as one. Bart slapped his forehead and Jay cursed. “We’re all fucking morons.”

“I don’t have his prescription,” Dami said, horrified. Jay put a hand in Dami’s hair. 

Grayson narrowed his eyes at Jay. “Explain.”

The Team went silent and Tim could feel the glances and nods going over his head. He sighed. “Forgot my meds,” he grumbled, saving them the effort of deciding whether or not to explain. 

“Why are you on meds?” Grayson asked carefully. 

Tim shook his head. “Napping now.” He leaned against Conner and sighed. 

That wasn’t enough for Grayson. “What have you done to my little brother?”

“We’ve taken care of him!” Jay snarled. “I saw the mess he was when he came to our universe, the way the mention of any of you caused him to freak out and he thought it was his fault, that he wasn’t good enough. But he is, he’s better than that, better than you! You missed your turn and he’s ours now.” 

Grayson scoffed. “Coming from you.”   
  
Tim blinked, adrenaline propelling back to full coherence. No. No no no. “Shut up,” he said weakly. 

“Yeah, coming from me!” Jay tucked Dami behind him and shifted his weight, ready for any physical blow that Grayson might throw. 

“Dick, don’t.” Tim begged. 

As always, Grayson didn’t listen.    
  
“Do you want to know who you are here?” Grayson said conversationally. “You’re a mass murderer. The scar on Tim’s neck? The one where it looks like someone slit his throat?” Grayson took a step forward. “That was you.”   
  
“Please, Dick! Stop!”

“Have you seen the one on his shoulder? The bullet wound? Also you.”   
  
Tim started to twist in Conner’s arms, as though he could stop this if only he could stand. 

“You cut the heads off of eight mobster lieutenants and threw the duffle bag at their bosses before you went on a killing rampage, murdering everyone who got in your way with brutal efficiency. And when you were done you snuck into this very tower and tried to beat Tim to death in the basement.” Grayson laughed humorlessly. “Have you seen the mass of scars over his heart? The one that looks like someone took a cheesegrater to his skin? You meant to make that a batarang to his heart.”

Grayson leaned in close to Jay. “Here, you are a fucking psycho. I thought when Tim went missing that it was you who did it. One of Black Mask’s men swore they’d seen you with your gun pressed right up against his skull and I didn’t doubt for a moment that you would have pulled the trigger, which is why I beat the everloving shit out of you and told you not to come back to Gotham. And I told you the truth. 

“You should have stayed dead.”

Jay made an incomprehensible sound that was followed by an enraged screech as Dami lunged forward, a fork poised to stab. Grayson flipped out of the way of the blow and grabbed Dami’s wrist to twist him into a pin. Bart fuzzed out and Grayson went flying back as Dami appeared in his arms. 

“Tim,” Conner asked. “Do you have a safe house?”    
  
Tim nodded. “Security isn’t as good and Future Evil Tim will know about them.”   
  
Conner adjusted Tim. “It’s still safer than here.” 

Bart grabbed Jay by his hand while keeping Dami in his grip. Cassie stepped forward to cut off their path and Bart stared her down. “You don’t want to have this fight with me,” he said as softly as a snake’s rattle.

Cassie stepped aside and the Team made it to the elevator.

“We’re going to save Tim!” Grayson promised.    
  
Conner snorted. “Fuck you.” The elevator doors closed. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make no apologies. Chapter 7 is written but I need to get a start on chapter 8 before I post it. As always, reviews are love and don't hesitate to point out mistakes. I'm not perfect.
> 
> Then again this isn't even my final form. >:D


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold Onto Your Butts.

When people thought of safe houses they tended to think of dingy spaces: warehouses, derelict apartments, abandoned service buildings. Tim preferred both avoiding clichés and living in comfort, which was why he took the Team to his condo in Presidio Heights. He owned the entire building under an alias and had hired a building manager who thought Tim was an eccentric recluse and understood that a huge part of her paycheck was to make sure that Tim was left alone.

The top three floors were his personal apartments. The uppermost was where he kept his Red Robin gear. The floor beneath that were his rooms and the bottom unit was anything his public face needed. All three units were exceptionally well protected and Tim had been as paranoid as to install a white noise generator. He’d always figured that if he’d needed to use this place it would be because he was hiding from the Titans. 

While he’d usually pictured it because of mind control instead of... this. 

Tim let the Team into the bottom floor simply because it had the most guest rooms. The awkwardness that had pervaded their journey to the condo increased tenfold as the door closed. Conner, who’d been half holding Tim up as they bussed over, dropped him unceremoniously on the couch. Tim heaved as he adjusted himself, his exhausted muscles protesting every movement he made. 

Jay was the first one to break the silence. “I need to think. If you need for anything you can go fuck yourself.” He went to leave but Dami snatched one of his hands, curling his tiny fingers around Jay’s. Jay scowled and bent over, pulling Dami’s hand away before scooping the boy into his arm. He stomped off, disappearing out of sight.

Everyone flinched when the sound of a door slamming felt like a gunshot.

Conner started to pace, arms like rigid pendulums at his side while Bart watched anxiously. Tim sat calmly, waiting for the clouds to burst. 

It didn’t take long. Conner spun and stilled, crossing his arms and planting his legs as though he wanted Tim to take a swing just so he could hit back. “You lied!” He snarled. “You told me I wasn’t his fucking replacement and you fucking lied!”

“I didn’t,” Tim said with false calm, his heart constricting. “I promise you I didn’t.”

“Really? Really?! So I wasn’t the next step in you’re failed clone experiment?”

“I didn’t fail,” Tim snapped. “I chose not to pursue it further!” Conner’s mouth went tense and Tim knew it had been the wrong thing to say. Tim tried to recover. “I understand that Kon couldn’t be replaced, that any clone I made wouldn’t be him, and I chose to stop. They wouldn’t be him. You’re not him.”

Conner scoffed. “But I’m still just a clone.”

“No!” Tim protested. “You’re a person! And you’re my friend!” 

“Have you ever looked at my DNA?” The question came out of left field, far too fast and hard. Had Tim not just dealt with Grayson, if he hadn’t just had a seizure, if he wasn’t dealing with withdrawl, he might have been able to school his face in time. If, if, if.

  
Conner threw his hands up in the air. “You fucking have! What the everloving fuck, Tim? How fucking twisted are you?!”  
  


“I was trying to help!” Tim pleaded. 

Conner snarled. “Help what, make a back-up?”

“You don’t age!” Tim clenched his fists as his lip wobbled, trying to hold back his tears. “You can’t have a secret identity because you don’t age and I thought I could help.”

  
  
Conner ran a hand through his hair. “Has it ever occured to you to fucking ask if I wanted your help?”

Tim hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

Conner flung his hands in disgust. “I need some air. I’m going for a walk.”

“You won’t be able to hear inside the apartment,” Tim said dully. “White noise generator.”

“Good.” Conner stormed towards the door. He didn’t slam it, but the click of the bolt was ominous. 

Bart sighed. “Look, Tim. I’ll go grab your meds and I’ll try and talk Conner down. It’ll be okay.”

Tim jammed his hands into his eyes. “Credit card and details are in the drawer by the fridge.” 

Bart gave Tim an awkward head pat. “Everyone’s just stressed,” he assured Tim. “It’ll be okay,” he repeated before gusting away.

Tim sat on the couch, taking in heaving breaths. He started counting them, counting how long they were, in the hopes that he could fall into a light meditation, that he could calm down enough to wrangle his scattered thoughts instead of just focusing on the fact that everything was a fucking mess and it was all his fault. 

He was why Jay knew about the Red Hood. He was why they were all here. He was why Conner was hurting. Why Bruce was missing his real children. Why Dick was missing his brothers.

If Bruce had never grabbed him everyone would have been okay. If the man had just minded his own business and allowed the universe to play out the way it was destined to he wouldn’t have to deal with all the heartbreak this situation was causing. Bruce was probably so scared for his kids. 

He’d be so angry when he realized what Tim put his sons through.

Tim wished the Riddler had killed him. That Ra’s had killed him. That Jason had killed him. 

He heard the door knob twist and blinked, pulling himself out of his own head. A lot more time must have passed than he realized if Conner was already back. It had to be him because Bart would have just ran through the door. 

Tim just sat there, his head lowered in his shame as he waited for Conner to speak. The Kryptonian didn’t say anything until he was behind the couch. 

“Replacement.”

  
  
Tim twisted around and raised his head to find the barrel of a gun aimed between his eyes. Despite his mouth being dry as sandpaper he managed to speak. “Jason.”

“Do you remember what I told you?” Jason said deceptively lightly. Tim had heard him use the same tone when questioning a rapist before castrating the man with a bullet.

“You’ve said a lot of things.” Usually from the other end of a weapon. And like all those times Tim’s brain was whirring, sifting through and discarding options that were going to get him out alive. 

Jason took a step forward, leaning over the couch so the barrel of the gun could kiss Tim’s skin. “I told you that if your little ‘kill me’ speech was another one of your stupid games I was going to make you regret being born.” Jason slung a long leg over the couch, using the gun to push Tim off of the cushions.

  
  
Tim carefully slid to his feet, his body shaking with exertion and fear. Every instinct was telling him to wait for a moment and then fight for all he was worth but his brain was screaming at him not to. In hand-to-hand he couldn’t beat Jason on a good day and right now his knees were knocking together. He had a few weapons hidden throughout the unit, but the chances of him reaching them before Jason shot him were pretty low unless Jason had come here looking to bat Tim around like a mouse in a cat’s paws. 

But there was also Jay and Dami. 

God, what Jason do to Jay if he spotted him, if he came face-to-face to who he could have been if Bruce had just been a better man? Would he kill him fast or would he pound Jay into pulp? Would he kill Dami just to finish off the set or would he be content to let the boy watch? 

Tim couldn’t let that happen. 

“It wasn’t a trick.”

  
  
Jason jabbed the gun hard into Tim’s skull. “Fuck you. You think I’m stupid? Set it up so the last person who admits to seeing you is some sleazeball, Nightwing comes in and saves your ass and then pins the blame on me so he can drive me out of Gotham.” Jason’s tone grew sharper, thinning to a razor’s edge. “He had the balls to track me down and give me some noble speech on how killing you was depraved. He beat me black and blue and tossed me out of Gotham, as though it were his city.” Jason finished climbing the couch, eliminating the barriers between him and Tim. “You two got me good. But if I’m going to take the heat for killing you I’m going to make sure I’m actually guilty.”

Don’t use the gun. Don’t use the gun. “My neighbors will hear if you shoot.”

Jason chuckled. “That’s not what the gun’s for.” Quick as a snake Jason lashed out, slamming the butt of the gun into Tim’s head. Tim landed on a knee, head spinning. There was a telltale itch accompanied by a warm trickle. 

Blood. 

Jason lifted Tim by his collar and shook him. “I fucking hate you, Replacement. Everytime I think I’m about to stop, everytime I think I might respect you, you pull bullshit like this.” He dropped Tim and slammed his toes into Tim’s ribs. 

Tim coughed, smothering the sound as best he could. “You’ve been trying to kill me since you came back to Gotham.”

Jason snorted. “I was taking pot shots at you to teach you to fucking grow a pair. You let everyone walk all over you, including me. I was going to push you to your breaking point until you finally stood up to me instead of licking your wounds like a little bitch.” Jason kneeled down, his mouth right by Tim’s ear. “I expected you to toss some of your stupid disks at me, throw a few punches until you realized that your simpering was never going to get Bruce to love you and that you should have started standing up to the man.”

  
  
Jason pulled back, studying Tim, before slapping his across the cheek, knuckles digging into Tim’s flesh. “Instead you went nuclear and took away everything I’d tried to rebuild with the family. Yet you’re still so fucking weak.” He tilted his head. “Where’s your conviction now? What words are you going to use to try and make this all go away? What lies are you going to tell?”

Tim concentrated on breathing, on not meeting Jason’s eyes. “Just get on with it.”

  
  
Jason scoffed. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

This time Tim did look up. “I’m tired of listening to you talk.”

Jason punched him with enough force to knock Tim onto his back and Tim hit his head hard on the wooden floor. He blinked away stars as weight settled on his hips. Jason was straddling him, his hands loose around Tim’s neck.

Don’t cry. This was okay. He was keeping Jay and Dami safe. Jason wouldn’t hang around. He wouldn’t raid Tim’s place. It wasn’t his style. He’d do what he came here to do and then he’d leave without any ceremony. Hopefully it would be Jay that found Tim, or maybe even Conner would get here sooner. Don’t let it be Dami.

  
  
But Dami finding him was better than Jason finding Dami. 

Tim took in a stuttering breath. It was the last he got before Jason’s hands tightened around his neck. 

Tim had been strangled before. He was familiar with the primal terror that came with having something foreign wrapped around his neck and the motion of his chest shaking as it tried to draw in breath that wasn’t there, but he’d never tried to just let it happen before, to just lay there and take it. It was hard, harder than Tim expected. He knew three moves that would get him air again but he couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk the noise a real fight would make and draw Jay out. 

Jay wouldn’t stand a chance against Jason. He’d retired, had only kept up enough with his training to fall back on it in an emergency. Jason was a killer who kept himself at his best. It would be over fast and it would be bloody. 

So he laid there and let Jason strangle him. 

The Team would be okay. Constantine had Tim’s number and knew Conner’s face. Bart had access to Tim’s money and Jay knew how to work PayPal, so Constantine would have no reason to back out of their arrangement. They might even be better off without Tim. There would no longer be any reason for anyone in this universe to pursue them. 

It wouldn’t be long now. His head was pulsing with the lack of blood flow and his lips were beginning to tingle. His lungs burned and the edges of his vision were fading for the second time, for the last time, today, 

Jason released his grip and Tim gasped instinctively, coughing and drawing air deep into his lungs. He wanted to twist onto his side and curl, but Jason’s weight was still there, saddled around Tim’s hips, his hands still settled around Tim’s neck. “You thought this was going to be easy? That I was going to make this quick?” Jason whispered in Tim’s ear. “You know how long I can make this last.”

The hands tightened again. This time Tim twisted. It was controlled, quiet. He made sure not to bang his heels, but he wriggled enough to help burn up the oxygen in his blood. 

Once again, as Tim neared blacking out, Jason released his grip. 

“What the fuck, Tim?” Jason asked, his voice brimming with frustration. Even if Tim hadn’t been dizzy he wouldn’t have understood what Jason wanted from him. Wasn’t dying enough?

The hands tightened around his neck again. 

Tim’s eyes were watering and his throat felt swollen both on the inside and the out. He couldn't help but claw at the floor with fingers that were beginning to buzz with oxygen deprivation.

Distantly he thought that this was a terrible way to die. It was also taking too long. Tim needed Jason to just fucking kill him before they were interrupted. 

This time when Jason released his hands, Tim gave his best sneer. “This is what makes you easy to play.”

  
  
The hands tightened again and Jason’s eyes had taken on a veneer of commitment that they’d previously lacked. 

Good. This was almost done. 

This would probably solve the problem of the Future Evil Us’s. 

Tim could feel everything fading, could feel Jason’s hands adjust their grip so they could apply more pressure instead of letting up. Everything started to swim and even the beat of Tim’s heart sounded like it was coming a million miles off.  
  


Tim’s body, his worries, his vision all just faded away.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x

Jay hadn’t wanted to take Dami with him. He’d wanted to be alone to brood but even as emotionally dense as he could get, he could read this room and he knew that Dami didn’t need to be caught up in the middle of whatever was about to go down. He picked the room farthest from the living room so he could keep his bullshit away from their's. 

He’d known that whatever had happened between the other him and Tim had been bad. The kid had freaked out and tried to defend himself with a toilet while in the midst of a panic attack the first time he’d been alone with Jay. 

That was a pretty fucking big clue.

But what the douchey version of Dick had, if even half of that was true, the Jason from this universe was a monster who was gunning for Tim. How could the kid even look at him, nevermind stand to be in the same room as him? Jay had found it nearly impossible to separate douchey Dick from actual Dick, only able to pull the personalities apart after they’d left the room and Jay had been able to recover. 

And a duffle bag full of heads? That was both psychotic but also super melodramatic, like the Count of Monte Cristo levels of dramatic.

Holy shit. Did their Jason die and come back to pull an Edmond Dantes on Gotham? Is that what Talia had been planning on teaching him? She hadn’t seemed that bad aside from the teaching him to murder thing, and even then it had come from a good place. Well, as good as Talia had. If he could kill people then people couldn’t kill him.

But had she been teaching him to kill all of Gotham’s underbelly? Had Bruce grabbing Tim, learning that Jay was alive early, been the only thing that had prevented Jay from turning into that kind of monster? 

Jay was startled out of his thoughts when a scowling Dami crawled into his lap. “We must have an explicit conversation about your feelings.”

“No, we really don’t.” This was the stupid parenting book’s fault. Whoever had bought that for Dami needed their credit card shredded and their fingers broken.

How often did his evil twin think about breaking people’s fingers? 

Dami put both his hands on Jay’s cheeks and turned his head, leaning in so their eyes were way too close. “Timothy does not exist in our universe.”

  
  
Jay blinked, trying to pull far enough back that his eyes weren’t crossing in an attempt to focus. “I’m pretty sure I’ve talked to him in the Manor.” 

Dami didn’t let him pull back. “Timothy does not exist. His parents did not marry. They may not have even met. No Timothy Wayne was born into our universe.”

Jay sighed, clearly trapped into listening to whatever point Dami was trying to make. He tapped Dami’s forehead with his own. “Okay, so Tim wasn’t born in our universe. He’s from here.”

Dami huffed, like Jay was missing a huge, glaring point. “The differences between the two universes are vast and unsubtle. You are not this world’s Jason and you have no potential to be so.”

“But I-”

  
  
Dami covered Jay’s mouth, pulling back so Jay could experience the full force of his glare. “Timothy does not confuse you with this world’s Jason. It would not do to confuse yourself.”

It was only when Jay nodded that Dami removed his hand. Dami slid off Jay’s lap and began to pace. “Now that that matter is settled, we must discuss what to do about Grayson.”

“I think leaving this world is probably enough.”

  
  
Dami paused in his pacing and put his hands on his hips. “That is not Grayson,” he hissed between his teeth. “Our Grayson must have seen this fiend attack Timothy while he was here and he did not mention it to us upon his return.”

  
Well. 

Fuck.

Wasn’t that a mess that Jay didn’t want to poke with a ten foot stick, especially not if that stick was Dami. The kid was ridiculously protective of Tim. 

Jay was saved from getting into that from the sound of yelling voices. He sighed. It shouldn’t have taken Tim and Conner this long to talk out their shit. It looked like Jay would have to go play mediator. “Wait right here,” he ordered Dami.

He was four steps into the hallway when he realized. 

That wasn’t Tim and Conner. 

Jay burst into a run, the words growing clearer as he came into view of the intruders. 

“-choking the life outta him I thought you were being figurative!”

“He was pissing me off!”

  
  
“You were just supposed to talk!”

Jay turned a corner, slowing as he caught sight of two intruders. One was Roy Harper. Older, carrying his bow, and wearing a stupid hat that Roy wouldn’t be caught dead in. He looked exasperated, like he’d come back to find that someone had drank the last soda. 

Beside him stood Jason. 

He didn’t look like a psycho. He was older than Jay, clean cut and wearing a rumpled suit. His elbow was casually resting on the back of a chair, though his shoulders were hunched in annoyance as he was chastised by Roy.

Just visible on the floor, poking out from in front of the couch, were Tim’s unmoving legs.

He screamed and slammed into his doppelgangers, slamming his fists into the man’s face. “You sonuvabitch!” 

Jason grabbed Jay by the wrists, stilling his punches so Jay headbutted him in the nose. He was rewarded with a symphony of curses.

“Oh my god its a mini-you!”

“Quit gawking and help!” Jason ordered, trying to twist so he could pin Jay underneath him. Jay rewarded him by dropped a knee onto the man’s groin. Jason made a gargled noise and his grip on Jay’s wrist loosen enough for Jay to jab him in the armpit.

  
“You bastard!” Jay screamed. He saw the bow slide over his vision and was too slow to prevent the weapon from hooking under his chin and pulling him off of Jason. He tried to twist but Roy held it between his elbows, keeping it pressed against Jay’s throat while exposing the rest of his body.

  
  
The worst part wasn’t how defenseless he felt. It was that he could see Tim’s still body, the way his cheek was darkened and the necklace of bruises across his throat. His head was resting in a puddle of blood. Jay had just been down the hall. How hadn’t he heard? Why hadn’t Tim screamed?

Jason stood and straightened his jacket. “Allow me to be the first to say: what the fuck?” He took a step closer and Jay grabbed the bow, using Roy’s grip to lift his body and slam his feet into Jason’s chest as he snarled. 

Roy twisted, throwing Jay off balance. “Well,” the archer said lightly, “he’s definitely yours.” 

This time Jason stayed away as he inspected his counterpart. Jay bared his teeth, daring Jason to come close. He’d tear the bastard’s throat out. Fuck, he’d kill him.

“He’s a bit old to be your kid.” Jay snarled at the thought. “But seriously,” Roy pressed the bow a little deeper, “what’s going on?”

Jason grimaced. “No idea, but it would explain why Replacement was being more of a bitch than usual.”

Replacement?

Was that prick talking about Tim?

“You shut the fuck up!” Jay hissed. “You don’t get to talk about him! You don’t fucking talk about him!” 

Jason snorted. “You aren’t exactly in any position to tell me what to do.”

“Timothy…?”

Dami. Jay tried to twist, to throw Roy off balance, but the man had a height advantage that grit couldn’t overcome. “Gremlin! Run!” 

Dami didn’t run. Dami didn’t move at all.

  
  
“Is that Damian?” Roy asked, sounding lost. 

“Did he just call Replacement by his name?!” Jason’s face morphed into something darker, something that hinted at this man’s kill count. “You’re going to explain just what the hell is goi-”

A picture frame flew into Jason’s head, catching him right in the temple. Jason snarled, putting a hand in his hair. It came black bloody. “You little shit!” He glared at Dami.

No. No this was not happening. Jay slammed his foot onto Roy’s but the man’s boot didn’t shift at the pressure. Armored. “No! Run, you idiot!” Jay yelled desperately. 

Dami tilted his chin and threw another picture. Jason dropped to dodge it, which would have been wise if Dami hadn’t launched himself towards the psycho the moment the picture left his hand. As Jason dropped down, his side was completely exposed and Dami approached it with the professionalism he’d been raised into, driving a pilfered knife into the man’s thigh. 

“Fucking sonuvabitch!” Jason swore and Jay could see his body shift, could see him get serious. He launched himself at Dami, who dodged with uncanny grace. But Jay could tell that Jason was better. Bigger, faster, better trained. The fight lasted exactly how long he wanted it to before an elbow to Dami’s back sent the boy splaying onto the floor. He pinned the kid there with a foot on Dami’s back. 

“Alright!” Jason announced, drawing a gun from seemingly nowhere. “Someone is going to explain what the fuck is going on right now!” 

  
Dami reached out a hand, his fingers barely brushing Tim’s runner. “Timothy! Timothy wake up!” Dami begged. “Please, Timothy.”

Jason sighed. “Look at that!” Roy said. “Look at what you did, Jaybird. You made the Demon Child cry!”

“That’s not Damian just as that,” he pointed the gun at Jay, “isn’t me. Now,” the gun lowered, and kept moving until the barrel was in line with Dami’s skull, “explain.”

This was worse than the warehouse. Then he’d known that Bruce was coming, that he’d do everything in his power to save Jay. The thought had been his last and it had brought him some comfort.

  
  
He had nothing here. 

No one was coming. Bruce didn’t know where they were. Dick was in an alternate universe. Tim was

Don’t think about it.

The safety of the gun clicked off. 

“Answers. Now.”

  
  
Jay didn’t cry. Especially not in front of douchebags. The bow tightened threateningly. “Alternate universe,” he gasped, his shoulders sagging in defeat. 

The safety of the gun clicked back on. “Shit, really?” Jason glanced at where Tim was laying on the floor. “Huh.”

“Let Dami go,” Jay made it an ordered despite the fact that he had absolutely no power in this situation. “He’s just a kid.”

Jason arched an eyebrow. “He also put a hole in my pants and I liked them.”

“You killed Tim, isn’t that fucking enough for you?” Jay snapped, trying to twist out again. 

Jason rolled his eyes. “You’ve definitely been spending time with Replacement. Tell him.” He lifted his foot off of Dami but kept the gun out. “The little bastard’s alive.”

Dami scrambled over to Tim, his breath catching as he put his hands on Tim’s wrist. Dami let out a relieved sob. He pulled Tim’s bloody head into his lap, smearing the liquid all over his pants as he pressed a kiss into Tim’s forehead.

Tim must have taken it as some kind of cue, his eyes fluttering open, taking in Dami first before fearfully glancing around the room. His eyes flicked to Jason's gun like a magnet drawn to metal. "Don't hurt them," Tim rasped, his voice no louder than a haunted whisper

Jay felt the horror drain out of his limbs. He was alive. Jay could work with the rest.

“Now, I want a full explanation as to what’s going on and how Timmers is involved,” Jason said with dwindling patience.

“Bruce brought Tim to our universe to take care of him,” Jay answered, sparing his brothers from being the targets of this man's rage.

Jason lifted an eyebrow. “I bet Bruce wasn’t happy about that.”

“Your Bruce,” Jay hissed, “is an absolute bastard.”

Jason scoffed. "Like yours is any better?" He took another step closer to Jay, seemingly forgetting that Jay would kick him in sensitive places. "He's a grown man with an army of orphans. Tim must have been so convenient for him, a little bird that's already trained, that's already so willing to die for the Mission."

"No,” Jay growled. “No more dead Robins!"

Jason drew back as though he'd been slapped. "What?" He sounded lost.

"I'm the last," Jay plowed on, "Bruce won't have another one after me, won't risk killing off another son for his quest. If Tim or Dami want to fight they can choose to do so when they are legal."

"I don't," Tim gasped, "understand." It was physically painful to see how lost Tim looked, how out of sorts the idea of not being a vigilante made the kid. He looked like he had no idea that this was even a possibility. 

Of course he fucking didn't. Jay wasn't supposed to be the one to explain it to him, and certainly not like this. The plan had been to help Tim figure out who Tim was outside of the cape, to ease him out of that costume like an addict off of drugs before letting him know that's what they'd done. They’d been doing their best to distract him, to keep him stimulated while they helped him find himself, never leaving him alone so his thoughts could dwell on the nightlife. 

It had been what Halloween was supposed to be about. To give Tim a moment to be a kid instead of a Bat. It had been Dami's idea and Ra's had fucking ruined it.

Tim shook his head, Dami grimacing as the wound under his hand shifted. "Then why keep me?”

  
Jason tilted his head. “Yeah. Why Tim?” He sounded genuinely curious.

Jay bit back a derisive laugh. “Because you people are all fucking psychopaths. You find out he’s here and five minutes later try to strangle him to death? And douchey Dick is a self righteous prick who showed up to act like Tim is selfish for wanting happiness.” Jay scoffed. “This place is like hell on Earth. No wonder Dick was so fucking shaken when he came back from this place.”

“Wait,” Jason put his hands on his hip. “Your Dick was here?” He eyed Tim with suspicion. “Tim does have a suicidal streak, doesn’t he?”

Jay wouldn’t look Jason in the eye. He knew Tim couldn't either.

“Huh,” Jason chuckled. “So that’s what happened.” The gun vanished and Jason motioned at Roy, who loosened the bow. “This is a giant my bad.” He waved his hands. “I thought Timmers and Dickface set me up.”

“And now?” Jay asked suspiciously. Roy let the bow drop away and he stepped back from Jay. 

“Now I’m going to warn you to keep an eye on your boy because he’s willing to spend his life like spare change.” He gave Tim a bitter smile. “This is definitely my fuck up, so I’ll do you all a favor. You said you’ve met, what did you call him, Douchey Dick?” Jay nodded. “I’m so stealing that," Jason snickered. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “If Dick knows you’re here, Bruce knows you’re here. I take it that you plan on dragging Tim back to where you are from?” Jay gave a suspicious nod. “As an apology I’ll keep the Bats off your trail.”

“We’re going to what?” Roy squawked. 

Jay tensed as Jason walked by, but all he did was clap Roy on the shoulder. “Come on, screwing with Bruce? It’s gonna be a blast.”

Roy shook his head and followed Jason out of the safe house. “If you say so.”

The moment they were out of sight Jay dived towards Tim, testing of his own shirt to bunch against the head wound. "I've got you, Tim. You're gonna be okay." He examined Tim's pupils. Uniform sizes but he'd need to test for reactivity. They'd probably dodged a concussion. "Where do you keep your oxygen?" Tim was too paranoid to not have any. 

"Third… floor," Tim heaved.

"Dami, hold this," Jay ordered and Dami took his shirt with an intense look of concentration. "I'll be right back, okay?"

"I will guard Timothy with my life."

Jay nodded before exploding into a mad dash, taking the stairs to say a time. Tim's lair was well organized and everything was clearly labeled, thank fuck. In no time at all Jay had a tank and a cannula and was racing back down.

It was a testament to how shitty Tim felt that he wasn't even attempting to sit up and move out of Dami's grasp. 

Jay wound the cannula around Tim's ears and turned on the tank. Tim took in three breaths through his damaged throat before his eyes slid shut. 

"Timothy? Timothy!" Dami's voice took on a hysterical edge.

"Okay," Tim mumbled. It sounded like the kids was talking through rocks. "Just need to..."

Jay put one of his body hands in Dami's hair. "He's good now. We've got him. Sleep well help him get better."

Tim gave a supportive hum. Dami looked both suspicious and terrified but he nodded and Jay was honored by the amount of trust. 

The door to the hallway opened and instinct had Jay grabbing the knife Jason had pulled from his thigh and tossed it at the noise. It hit something hard and landed on the floor with a clatter. 

"What the fuck?" asked Conner. He came close enough enough to see over the couch. "What happened?" he asked, his tone shook as he joined them in the huddle around Tim. 

'We need to get him off the floor," Jay responded, not ready to deal with Conner’s guilt.

“Yeah. Yeah okay.” Conner slipped his hands under Tim’s body, lifting him slowly while Jay grabbed the oxygen tank. The damn thing was heavy. It was an awkward shuffle to get Tim to a bedroom, and when they eased him onto the mattress blood seeped into the pillow.

Dami curled up on the other side, near Tim but careful not to touch him as though he were afraid Tim would break. Jay understood that feeling deep in his bones. 

“How bad’s the cut?” Conner demanded. 

Jay shook his head. “Head wounds bleed like a bitch, but it wasn’t a priority.”

“Make it one!” Conner ordered. 

Jay reared back. “Watch the fucking attitude. You weren’t here. You didn’t help. You don’t get to make decisions now.”

  
  
Conner bared his teeth. “I’m Team leader.”  
  


“You should have thought of that before you wandered off in a hostile environment so you could go whine like Frankenstein over your life choices. You let hurt feelings over things that didn’t happen to you in a dimension that wasn’t yours distract you and Tim nearly died.” Jay looked Conner dead in the eyes. “Tim. Nearly. Died.” Saying it made everything feel more real. God this universe was fucked up. 

Conner looked gobsmacked and guilty. “I’m sorry.”

  
“Either go be guilty somewhere else or go be useful and find me some goddamn thread so I can stitch this up.”

Conner fled the room. 

Jay wasn’t sure if he wanted him to come back with the thread.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The most common review for Liminal Spaces was “I want to know what happened in the last universe and I want confrontations” Be careful what you wish for. 
> 
> Though I promise that the next chapter is going to be far more gentle on your hearts. Like, actually promise.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Team finally has a few minutes to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, something a lot lighter than what's been going down.

Tim’s throat was tight and every breath burned. He could feel the oxygen being forced down his throat. His cheek ached, there was definitely a cut on the inside of his mouth, and he could feel a crust over half of his head, irritating his scalp. 

It was all worth enduring for the thumb that was gently rubbing his forehead. 

Tim didn’t move, didn’t give any indication that he was awake, because he never wanted that touch to stop. It was more addicting than coffee. He’d heard of the experiment with the baby monkeys, where they’d given them a choice between wire and food or cushion and starvation and the baby monkeys had all died, and in this moment he understood. He’d be willing to go without coffee for as long as he had that gentle touch. 

“You need to wake up, Tim,” Jay whisper. “Dami’s freaking out. He’s spent so much time making soup that the only reason we aren’t drowning in it is because Bart has a speedster’s appetite.” That was a very solid argument, but the touch on his forehead was _really_ wonderful. “After you eat I’ll let you have as much coffee as you want.” Nope. Tim had already decided he wasn’t trading this for coffee. 

Jay sighed. “I want to be mad at you.” The finger paused for a moment before picking up the motion again. “But this time I can’t. If it had been reverse? You and Dami in another room and me with that psycho I would have done everything to keep you two safe, even if it had meant doing nothing. 

“But damn if you didn’t scare me,” Jay’s voice hitched. “You’re not allowed to do this anymore because we all need to go home. Dad needs all of us back and that includes you.” 

Jay pulled his hand way and Tim whined, reaching up to snag Jay’s wrist and place the hand back on his head. Jay didn’t resist and set his palm in Tim’s hairline, carding his fingers through Tim’s hair. “You playing possum on me, Tim?” Jay sounded amused. He pulled his hand away again and Tim whined. “Just give me a minute, baby bro. This’ll help.” 

Tim felt something cold press against his lips and he opened his mouth, an ice chip sliding into his throat and easing the irritation. It felt good, so good, but not as good as the hand that returned to his hair. Tim hummed in contentment. 

“You know,” Jay said, “if you wanted me to play with your hair all you had to do was ask.”

Tim frowned and finally opened his eyes. “Not allowed to be a baby,” Tim said, his voice sounding like crushed rocks. 

Jay looked puzzled. “Who told you that?”

Tim sighed. “Mother.” He leaned into the touch. “Perfect Drake heir. No being needy. Stand on my own two feet.”

“You never stood a chance, did you?” 

Tim blinked himself awake, pulling out of the sleepy haze he’d been wrapped in. The side of his chest ached with every breath but the ribs felt bruised, not cracked or broken. His cheek felt puffy and he was definitely sticking to his pillow case. He frowned at Jay as his brain churned to life. “I turned out fine.”

“You turned out amazing.” Jay leaned in and kissed Tim’s forehead in a surprising burst of tenderness, “and I’m glad you’re my brother.” Tim blinked dumbly. He had no idea what to do with that information. 

“Now,” Jay said, standing away from Tim and stealing his hand back. “It’s time for you to get up and at ‘em. Did you catch the part with Dami and the soup? Because I was not exaggerating. That kid has been taking an entire chapter out of Alfred’s book.” 

Tim groaned as his sat up, grimacing as he had to use his fingers to pull his hair away from the pillow, blood flaking onto the sheet. 

Jay wrinkled his nose. “Yeeeaaaah, we’re gonna get you in the shower first. You need help?” 

“I’m good.”   
  
Jay snorted. “Tell me that again when you’re on your feet.”   
  
Tim glowered and swung his legs around, sliding them out from under the blanket. He gingerly pushed himself off of the bed and was pleased to find his legs steady. He raised an eyebrow at Jay if to say ‘see?’ Tim reached for the oxygen tubing.    
  
“Ah!” Jay shook his head, “none of that. You get to wear that until we all feel better about you.”   
  
Tim glared. “I’m not showering while wearing oxygen.”   
  
Tim showered while wearing oxygen. 

It helped him feel more human, loosening his tense muscles and washing the blood away. He didn’t look in the mirror until after he’d cleaned himself up and he sighed at his appearance. No wonder Jay had wanted him to shower first. Even with the blood cleaned away Tim looked like a mess. His neck was so bruise it looked like he was wearing a collar and he had purple blossoming along his cheek. No black eye, which was a small mercy because those where a bitch to hide. 

He was half tempted to bust the makeup out then and there, but he needed to get a read on the Team. Jay was being weirdly emotional which meant that Dami had to be freaking out. Bart seemed to be pretty accustomed to Tim taking serious injuries so he was probably alright but Tim had no idea what the hell he was doing with Conner. 

What _was_ he doing with Conner? 

He’d invited Conner to sleep in his bed. His bed! And then he’d fucking cuddled with the other boy, like he was gay or something. 

Tim wasn’t! There was no grave deep enough to prevent Janet from clawing her way to the top and ending Tim if she’d suspected that Tim was gay. 

But he wasn’t. It’s not like he’d ever wanted to have sex with a guy. Like, yeah, he could appreciate when someone put time into their appearance but everyone was like that. It wasn’t exactly rocket science to figure out whether or not someone was conventionally attractive and Conner definitely was front page magazine hot. And Tim didn’t mind it when Conner touched him. 

Tim actually really liked it when Conner touched him. But Tim just liked to be touched. Back to the baby monkeys. It was that simple. Tim didn’t want to have sex with guys so Tim wasn’t gay.

But Tim didn’t want to have sex with girls. 

Nope. Shut up, brain. This revelation was not happening now. That was just trauma. Girls were beautiful and curvy and they smelled nice. 

And Tim had always made sure to not have condoms when he spent a night with Steph, ensuring nothing could happen.

Long before the trauma. 

Shit. This is what happened when his brain shut down. When it turned back on it fired up with twice the operating power and half the focus and right now it decided to focus on the fact that he’d been actively avoiding having sex since he turned old enough for other people to want it from him. 

And he’d liked Steph, but had he like-liked Steph? They’d never been a great couple. There was always too much friction for them to be more than friends. He’d sabotaged his relationship with Tam in a big way. Like, there had been no way that he had honestly believed that she wouldn’t dump him for faking her father’s death, no matter what lies he told himself. 

Was Tim gay? 

Did he need to add zombie Janet as things to be scared of in this universe?

But he didn’t want to have sex with Conner. He for sure didn’t want to have sex. The entire concept seemed weird. 

Was Tim...broken? 

Well, that wouldn’t actually be surprising. Add it to this list. Tim let out a bitter laugh. God, just one more thing. 

Nope. He was done. And it wasn’t like any of this mattered. Conner currently hated Tim. 

Tim tapped the back of his head against the wall. Focus. Put the thoughts back in the box. He had better things to focus on right now, like getting everyone home. He could do this. No distractions.

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly before opening the door, dragging his oxygen behind him as he walked to the livingroom. There was no one there, but Tim could hear noise coming from the kitchen so he wasn’t overly concerned. He wove past the armchair, careful to ignore the deep stain that someone had tried and failed to scrub out of the wood.

Bart was at the stove, stirring a pot under Dami’s watchful eye. “You must stir slower!” Dami ordered sternly before grumbling in exasperation. “Give me the spoon.”   
  
“You can’t reach the pot,” Bart pointed out.    
  
“I can if I stand on your corpse!” 

“Hey, Tim,” Jay called from where he sat at the island. “Dami made soup.”   
  


“Timothy!” Dami screamed, abandoning Bart to the soup so he could wrap himself around Tim, silently burying his face into Tim’s shirt. He was gentle, careful of Tim’s bruised ribs. Tim played with the tips of Dami’s hair. 

  
There were four pots sitting on the island, ladles in all of them. The room was filled with the smell of garlic and herbs and there was an empty, unused bowl in the seat nearest Tim. There was also an empty coffee cup. 

A large empty coffee cup. 

It was actually the largest he owned in this safe house and it lived on the third floor when Tim could sip from it all day long. Someone would have to have gone actively hunting for it without even knowing it was there in order to find it. It also definitely violated the rules on how Tim’s daily coffee quantity. 

“I didn’t know what type of coffee you wanted,” Conner said from where he leaned up against the far wall, his eyes focused on the bottom of one of the chairs, “so I brought down all the bags I could find.”   
  
Sure enough, Tim’s upstairs roasts were all on the counter. He was tempted to tell the universe to go fuck itself and chug the strongest brew he had, but he also knew that Conner and Jay were both giving him the opportunity to be responsible for himself. 

Shit. He needed to act like an adult. 

“I’m going to have some of Dami’s delicious soup,” Tim said softly and Dami lifted his head so he could look at Tim’s face, wearing a sweet smile most people thought the boy incapable of. “What type did you make?”   
  
Dami sniffed as he pointed to each of the pots, explaining its ingredient list. “The Clone and the Interloper assisted only because I could not locate a stool. If the dishes are subpar it will be because of their interference.”

Tim nodded very seriously. “I’m sure despite their help that it will all taste great.”

“Indeed. These are Pennyworth’s recipes.” 

Tim walked over and picked the blandest of the soups, choosing the one that was least likely to irritate his throat. He carefully spooned it into the large coffee cup and took a sip. 

“Delicious,” Tim praised. 

Dami raised an eyebrow. “Despite outside interference.”   
  
Tim’s lips quirked but he gave a very serious nod. “It’s very good. Alfred will be proud.”

Dami beamed for a full second before schooling his face into something far more regal. “Of course he will. As Father’s son, perfection is expected.”

Jay snorted. “Chill, Gremlin.”

“How are you feeling?” Bart asked, “because I have to say coming back with your meds to find you dead on the floor was the absolute mode, my dude.”   
  
“Keep stirring!” Dami snapped.

“Okay,” Tim said, careful to keep his voice low so as not to strain it further. “Better than usual after an encounter with Jason.” Everyone in the room flinched. “We should probably switch safe houses in case he comes back. He can be mercurial.”

“Not a good idea,” Conner finally spoke, shaking his head. “Your old crew had been combing the city pretty hard.”

“Plus that’s no guarantee we’ll be any safer,” Bart chimed in. “Dude rigged this place to send an alert when the door was opened. Chances are he’s done that to a lot of your safe houses. It’s better to be somewhere we know isn’t safe than to hang out somewhere where we can be caught off guard.”

Tim sipped at his soup. It had cooled enough to be soothing and really was quite good. Better than anything he could make, though Tim didn’t really have any cooking skills of which to speak. That’s what Janet had always believed the help was for. 

“If he comes back, I’ll be here,” Conner promised darkly. Despite knowing that Conner probably never wanted to speak to Tim again, the words caused something warm to curl around his heart. 

Stupid feelings. 

“So now what?” Jay asked.

Tim shrugged. “Not much to do but wait.”

“Ah fuck,” Jay grumbled, “that’s the worst.”

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

It wasn’t the absolute worst, despite Jay’s initial complaints. The guest floor was fully stocked with the latest and most popular forms of entertainment, which was what led to the discovery that video games also had alternate levels and endings, which blew Bart’s mind. Jay downloaded every single book that was public domain onto a thumb drive that he looped around his neck and called a souvenir before buying several to read on Tim’s tablet. Dami had discovered the supplies Tim used to map out crimes and had claimed it as his art supplies. 

Tim just concentrated on getting himself back to his best. He took his medications, he didn’t try to sneak more caffeine than Jay let him have and he ate when Dami reminded him. Tim wore the cannula for two whole days until Jay gave his blessing to removed it. 

Sleep didn’t come easy but it did come.

As for Conner… well...

Conner brooded. 

Tim kept his distance. He floated around the edges of the room when Conner was there, leaving as soon as he could without being rude and not getting sucked into group activities that the Kryptonian was interested in. Cowardly, perhaps, but he didn’t want to push past Conner’s boundaries any further than he already had, though Tim supposed like was like trying to feed the cat after it had died. But Tim had fucked up and therefore it was his responsibility to yield the floor. 

On the fourth day, Conner cornered Tim as he left the bathroom. 

“We need to talk,” he said grimly. 

“Okay,” Tim said numbly. Jay’s laughter echoed down the hall. The other three were playing some cartoony multiplayer game that Tim hadn’t known he’d owned. If he didn’t return they’d probably assume that he’d wandered off to find his laptop, so there was little chance of them interrupting whatever was about to go down. 

Despite the lead in his bones, Tim didn’t resist. He owned it to listen to whatever Conner so he let the Kryptonian usher him into Conner’s bedroom. 

They stood there in silence for a moment before Conner took in a deep breath. “You’re messed up.” Tim opened his mouth to agree, but Conner held up a hand to silence him. “Just, let me talk.” 

Tim licked his lips nervously but nodded. 

“You’re seriously messed up. I was grown in a lab, I’m part Lex Luthor, Superman hates me, and I’m still better adjusted than you.” Conner sighed and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “The Team knows that Batman grabbed you from here, but we didn’t think about that what meant. I didn’t think about what that meant.”

Tim stiffened, bracing himself for Conner to lay Tim’s flaws bare. 

“I’m sorry.”   
  
Tim’s eyes flew up, studying Conner’s face. “What?”

Conner shifted, uncomfortable. “I mean, given the shit we pulled to take down the Light, I knew you could be extreme but I didn’t think it applied to everything. But it does, doesn’t it? You put the same effort into buying your coffee as you did to preventing the end of the world.”   
  
“I like to support ethically sourced coffee,” Tim said with a defensive snap. 

Conner ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not good at this.” He tapped his head against the wall. “Look,” he said bluntly. “This place sucks. You don’t, but coming from somewhere that sucks affected you. You have no understanding of boundaries but I get it. I get that you were trying to help. Just next time, ask. You’ll probably don't understand what shit you need permission for but I’m willing to help work with you until you’re less shitty. Okay?”

“Okay?” Tim blinked. “Um, does that mean I can help you with the aging thing?” Conner rolled his eyes. “Sorry,” Tim apologized hastily. “I can leave it alone I just thought…”

“Yes, you can keep working on it, but don’t do anything until you actually talk to me, okay?”

“Yeah,” Tim nodded his head. “I get that much.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

They sat in silence and Tim squirmed. He could feel the box in his head unravelling, cracking open, and words flew from his mouth before he could dash out the door. 

“I think my mom is going to come back from the dead to kill me!” Tim’s face heated up in mortification. That was not what he meant to say.

Conner raised both of his eyebrows. 

“I mean, I think I might be a broken gay? And I’m not supposed to be gay because Drakes aren’t gay but I’m pretty sure I only dated women to hide the fact that I don’t like women and I didn’t want to have sex with any of them but I also don’t want to have sex with you even though you’re like really nice and I really liked when I held you hand but I really shouldn’t have done that to you and I made you cuddle and I-”   
  
“Breathe,” Conner ordered. He walked over to Tim and wrapped him in a hug. “I think you’re cool too. It’s fine that you’re gay. I’m bi. I enjoyed cuddling and if your zombie mom comes back I’ll punch her in the face.”

Tim leaned into Conner. “Oh.”

“I don’t think you’re broken,” Conner continued, “and if you want more I’m willing to do that. If you want to focus on you I’m willing to do that. If you don’t want to decide now, I’m willing to do that. We take this at your speed.”   
  
“Okay.” Tim looked into Conner’s eyes. “Can we just stay like this for a while?” 

Conner gently dragged his hand through the back of Tim’s hair, rubbing his scalp. Tim melted against him. “For however long you want.”

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The next day, Constantine called.

Tim put the phone on speaker so everyone could hear what the British magician had come up with. 

“Well, luvs,” Constantine started off. Jay slapped a hand over Dami’s mouth to prevent the child from cursing out their best chance of getting home. “I’ve got good news and I’ve got news on how bloody scuppered you are.”   
  
Of course. “Tell me.”

“I can’t get you home.”   
  
“I thought you said you’ve got good news,” Tim said coldly. 

“Well, that’s saving you a fuck ton of money,” Constantine snarked, “but you’re gonna bloody pay me anyway.”   
  
Everyone raised their eyebrows in disbelief.    
  
“Really?” Tim said snobbishly.

“I can get one of you idiots back.” That was actually fantastic news. If they could get someone to Bruce then Bruce could pop over and grab the rest of them. “Of course, there is a but.”   
  
Tim sighed. Of course there was. 

“Don’t sigh at me. I bloody told you magic has rules. Something like this? Takes power. More than I’ve got packing around in my pockets.”   
  
“Let me guess. If we want this to work we have to find you that power.”

“Damn straight. I ain’t risking my arse for yours.”   
  
So very Constantine. “Do you have something specific in mind or are we flying blind?”

“You need a statue. Some arse named it ‘Coming and Going Under the Watchful Eyes of Angels’ which is bloody daft because its a carving of Abeona and Adiona, the Roman Goddesses of travel. One for leaving, one for coming back.”   
  
Jay scoffed. “Poetic”

“Symbolism fucking matters in magic you bloody ponce.” There was a click and Tim could picture Constantine lighting up his smoke. Sure enough there was a hiss of air and an awkward delay. “The statue was made by a slave. Her and the lady of the house were travelling along and disappeared into a storm. They were missing for three days when they both popped up as though nothing had ever happened. No memory of being missing. But then the slave, who’d been taught to fit dresses and pour wine, picks up a chisel and carves the bloody thing in three bloody days. 

“That right there is some powerful stuff.”   
  
“Okay,” Tim nodded. “Do you know where it is?”

“I do,” Constantine said smugly. “Private collector has it and lucky enough for you he’s holding himself a fancy shindig. It shouldn’t be too hard for a cape to sneak in and pinch the thing, unless it offends your delicate sensibilities.” Tim could hear how absolutely smug Constantine sounded and he was a little offended that the magician thought that they might say no.    
  
“You let me worry about my moral compass,” Tim responded dryly. “Who’s got it?”   
  
“Lex Luthor.”

Fuck. 

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

“So who else can we contact?” Bart asked laying on the couch with his legs hooked over the back and his head hanging over the edge. 

“We could kidnap Zatanna,” Jay suggested. 

“We’re not kidnapping anyone,” Conner said firmly, quashing that plan. 

“We could find evidence of her wrong doings and force her to adhere to our will.”   
  
Conner rolled his eyes. “We are not blackmailing Zatanna.”

“What are you suggesting?” Bart grumbled. “That I just run through the walls and grab the thing? It’s Lex Luthor!”

“Or we could look for another artifact. It can’t be the only one that would work,” Conner pointed out reasonably. 

“I bet Zatanna has one,” Jay pointed out. 

“Enough with Zatanna!” Conner snapped. “What do you think, Tim?”

Tim hummed as he scrolled down on his laptop. The statue wasn’t huge, which made the stunning detail on it that much more exquisite. The two women circled each other, flowing like water. It wouldn’t fit tidily into a fitted suit pocket, but it would be easy enough to tuck it into a purse. 

It also looked like Lex’s security was going to be rather loose as far as Lex went, which meant that this was definitely a trap. There would be something dramatic triggered that would no doubt cause all sorts of chaos. Probably a trap for either Lois, Clark, or both. 

That would be a great distraction. 

“I say we attend Lex’s party.”

“Dude, my dude,” Bart said, rolling over so he could sit on the couch. He steepled his fingers and gave Tim a calm look that emphasized how serious he was being, “that is a _terrible_ idea.”

Tim gave Bart a reckless grin. “You mean terrific.” 

“Look, I am your yes man. I trust you to lead me through hell, but I do not feel like wading into Luthor’s home is a crash idea and I would like to firmly object.”   
  
“Objection noted.”   
  
Conner narrowed his eyes at Tim. “You already have a wildly reckless plan.”

“I do.”

Jay sighed. “Is it going to get us all killed?”

“If it goes wrong, only me and Bart.”

  
“Conner,” Bart said seriously, “I think we need to revisit kidnapping Zatanna.”   
  
Conner ignored Bart. “Lay it on me.”   
  
Bart whimpered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So 100 pts to the person who called Conner/Ace!Tim. I'd name drop you but I can't find your review but you picked up the direction I was headed. 
> 
> Story is officially written and Beta'd. Just some minor tweaks and then I'll get it all up. As you can see the chapter count is finalized and I am super excited for this to play out. 
> 
> Thanks for staying with me this long.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again.

Tim knew the value of being disguised as the opposite gender. He’d invested weeks in perfecting Carolina Hill. He was highly aware of how people reacted of his wardrobe choices, of his posture. He knew exactly what his voice could do to a man. He’d perfected contouring, mastered high heels, and could coif his hair with the best of them. 

Bart was going in without any of that.

“Panty hose itch,” Bart complained. “How do women wear these things?

Tim rested casually against the back seat of the limo. “Bare legs are for summer,” he said with a casual shrug. 

Bart hissed. “You made me shave my legs.”

  
  
“I honestly don’t believe that in the future you never had to dress up as a woman.” 

  
“It was far more wearing camo so we could sneak into places to place bombs, not wearing makeup so we could go eat cocktail weenies on Lex Luthor’s dime.”

“Sometimes,” Tim said airily, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, “you have to appreciate the finer things in life.” His hair was gelled, but into stylish messy rather than back. He was in a fitted tux, jet black with a blue tie to highlight his eyes. Tim was impressed with the quality considering he’d given the tailor a four days to finish it. He would have had longer, but he’d had to find a way to fit a white noise generator into a watch so Kon didn’t interrupt a fitting.

Bart’s dress lacked the same attention to detail, but that was fine considering that Bart was only going as Tim’s date and Tim was more than willing to trade on Bruce’s reputation of being captivated by a pretty face rather than status. 

“Now, are you ready to party?” Tim grinned at Bart.

“I hate you,” Bart grumbled. “You are the absolute mode.”

Tim let out a laugh that was cut off by the limo door opening. He stepped onto the carpet and was greeted with stunned silence, like a wave being sucked in, before the word exploded into sound and color.

“Mr. Wayne! What do think ab-”

  
  
“Where have you be-”

“Do you have anything to say-”

“Who’s your date?”

“Who are you wearing?”

Tim ignored the vultures of the press as he eased Bart out of the limo, the other boy gripping onto Tim tightly so he didn’t stumble in his heels. “How do women wear these things?” He whispered. 

“With great talent,” Tim said out of the side of his mouth. “Now smile. You are on a date with the great Tim Wayne.” Taking his own advice, Tim plastered on his best gala smile and waved at the cameras, ignoring all the questions as he swept Bart to the doors of Lex’s art gallery.

Bart tensed as a large man with a vicious face stepped in front of them. “This is a private event. Invite only.” It was being marketed as a fundraiser to help with the repair costs that came with having Superman guarding the city. Tim didn’t bother to look into where the money was actually going. 

Tim gave his best party laugh. “I’m sure that Mr. Luthor would have invited me if it wasn’t for all those nasty rumors that I’ve died.” Tim reached out to fix the man’s tie even though it wasn’t crooked. “Being so entwined in business, Lex must have been very upset,” more like relieved, “ and I’m sure he’ll find my presence a relief,” a shocking irritation. 

The bouncer frowned down at Tim, his scowl twisting in a way that put Tim in mind of a dog. He motioned Tim and Bart to the side and spoke into his wrist. After a few moments the man motioned Tim and Bart over. “Mr. Luthor is relieved to hear you are safe and hopes you enjoy his party.”

  
“Absolutely, my good man.” Tim clapped him on the shoulder as they passed. He was almost impressed that the man didn’t growl at him, but Lex paid his people well enough to know better. 

“Rich people are weird.” Bart shook his head, his grip on Tim as he stumbled a bit. 

Tim didn’t know how to respond to that. He’d heard it before, from Ives, from Steph, and even from Kon, but he’d raised into this, born into it. This was just the way his world worked. 

They crossed a lobby, Bart’s heels clicking irregularly on a polished marble floor and if Tim were a worse friend he’d be teasing Bart for it, but what happened on missions stayed on missions. He also felt a little bad, as the food was in the lobby and the only thing allowed in the gallery part would be wines, champagne, and preapproved finger foods which would hardly be satisfying to a speedster. 

They were followed by whispers as they walked through, but no one approached them. Tim held the door to the actual gallery for Bart who attempted a flirty smile. It was too full of nerves and resentment to truly work, but Tim had planned for that. 

Lex Luthor himself intercepted them the moment they passed through the door. 

“Mr. Wayne,” he greeted with what was probably genuine surprise. “I must admit I’m shocked to find you in such good health.”

  
  
Tim laughed. “It’s amazing what a vacation can do for one’s health. I highly recommend it.”

“Last I’d heard your departure from Gotham was supposedly a little more permanent.” Well, Lex was setting a high bar for being tactful about Tim not being dead. 

Tim shook his head and tutted. “The downside of being in charge is that when you step out for a moment everything falls apart. I’m sure you can sympathize, Lex.” 

“Indeed,” Lex said, looking at Tim as though the teen had hit his head. “I must ask the question of the hour, but where have you been?”

Tim hid a vicious grin shifted into his version of Brucie. “My naturopath said that I looked a little piqued and she recommended a routine of essential oils, by my spiritual advisor said that I was out of connection with the universe and that I needed to find my centre. You know how that is, right Lex?”

  
Lex nodded his head, though Tim could see the screams rising in his eyes. “I decided that the best way to take care of my health was to find myself and what better way to do that than travel the ocean, alone with just nature and my thoughts? But then I realized that I was ignoring my naturopath and I had an epiphany. What better way to use essential oils than to go where they come from? So I set a course for the nearest island so I could make my own oils out of the native plant life.

“Of course, technology interferes with one’s spiritual journey. I made sure to leave my phone on the boat so as not to disrupt my karma and I must say, Lex, that I feel like a new man. And of course I brought back my oils with me. I’ll send you a sample. I might even have one for hair growth.”

“That’s very interesting, Mr. Wayne,” Lex said with a twitch in his eye. “But if you excuse me, the Porters have just arrived and it would be remiss of me to ignore them.”

  
  
Tim’s laugh was made of bells. “Oh, absolutely, Lex. Don’t let me keep you from your party.”

Lex walked away in long strides, which was practically a run from that man. 

“There,” Tim said, flashing Bart a genuine smile. “Now Lex won’t speak to us for the rest of the night.”

Bart shook his head in amazement. “I’m so glad you are on our side.”

Tim patted Bart’s hand. They meandered their way over to the statue, pretending to be interested in the other art pieces. Bart had burned through an art history book and was able to stumble his way through a conversation if he was unlucky enough for someone to focus on him rather than Tim. By the time they made it to the statue Bart was squeezing Tim’s arm hard enough to bruise. “I hate you and I’m going to switch all your coffee for decaf.”  
  


“Promises promises,” Tim said silkily as he studied the security. The statue was on a pedestal, no glass case though it definitely sat on pressure trigger. Tim couldn’t see any extra precautions which was what he expected. Whatever Lex was planning, the statue had nothing to do with it.

It was just a matter of waiting. 

Bart scowled at it. “I need out of these shoes.” 

“I promise to buy you exoctic fruit for your troubles.”

  
  
“It had better be the most delicious fruit in the world,” Bart groused. 

A delicate hand set itself on Tim’s shoulder and he jerked in panic, reaching for a weapon he was not carrying. He spun, breathing hard, and came face to face with a pair of dark eyes. 

“Tim,” came a soft, familiar voice.

“Cass,” Tim croaked. 

She reached up to cup his cheek but her hand darted away. She must have realized he was in heavy makeup, hiding yellowing bruises. 

“Missed you, brother.” She grabbed Tim’s hand, holding it to give weight to her words.

  
  
“I’ve missed you too, Cass.”

“Bruce lied,” she hissed angrily before leaning close to Tim. “Where?”

Tim shuffled his feet guiltily. “Alternate universe.” 

“Bruce knew.” It wasn’t a question. Not even Tim could lie to Cass. Still, he nodded. 

“Happy?” She asked, tilting her head like a bird as her eyes combed through Tim. 

“I am.” Tim was a little startled at his own words, but even with the problems he had in the other universe, it was probably the happiest he’d ever been in his life.

Cass nodded as though some great decision had been made. “You need.” She pointed at the statue. Tim nodded again. Cass shook her head, irritation crawling across her face. “Hard. Leaguers here.” She pointed at herself. “Help.”

“Bruce?”

  
  
Cass shook her head. “Batman.” Alright, so he only had to worry about running into Other Bruce when the dust settled. He planned to be long gone by then. 

“Shit we are so moded,” Bart muttered. Cass patted Bart’s head, careful not to mess up all of Tim’s careful work. “Batman is here. Why is he even here?”

Cass rolled her eyes. “Lex.”

True. On top of being a major threat the League found the man irritating even when he was being innocuous, which was why Clark followed him to the point of stalking. For multiple Leaguers to be here meant that they expected Lex to have something big up his sleeve. 

  
It wasn’t his concern, Tim reminded himself. He just needed to duck and run. 

Cass tightened her grip on Tim’s hand and bit her lip, smudging her lipstick. “You owe me. Favor.” 

Tim closed his eyes, feeling his chest tightening as he let out a shuddering breath. He did. He owed Cas so much, but he owed the Team just as much. Cass gave him a light slap on the arm. He opened his eyes, surprised to find her scowling lightly. “No fear, brother,” she chided. “Take me.”

“Um,” Bart said. 

Tim blinked. “You want to come with me to the other universe?” Cass gave a decisive nod. “Bruce will never forgive you if you leave.”

Cass growled. “Ran away. Didn’t want to be assassin. Found Bruce.” She shook her head, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Don’t want to be soldier.” She leaned farther into Tim’s space, a soft desperation in her eyes. “There, better. You better. I want to be better. Take me.”

Tim nodded and kissed her forehead. “Okay. I promise. You’ll come too.”

“Ah, Timothy!” a middle aged woman burst into the conversation, waving her champagne as she glided over. “My Luthor was telling me how you were investing in essential oils and I must tell you about the wonders they’ve done me.” Oh, damn. It was Missy Tyler, an actress who must have made a deal with the devil to revive her career. Not only was she starring in movies again but she was selling crackpot ideas on the side. Worse, people were buying her snake oil. 

Well played, Lex. 

“Missy!” Tim said with equal enthusiasm, allowing the woman to drag him across the room to meet all her friends, all of whom would love to be the face of his new line, conveniently ignore that he was both legally dead and not Wayne Enterprise’s CEO. Still he played the game, knowing that Cass would keep Bart safe and out of trouble. 

A familiar vapid laugh broke through the conversation, sending a chill down Tim’s spine. “Ladies! Do forgive me but I must steal my son away! The little rascal didn’t even give me a call!” No no no. He was supposed to be playing Batman!

Other Bruce wrapped a meaty paw around Tim’s arm and tugged him away, a chorus of goodbyes condemning Tim to this interaction. The man dragged Tim to a corner of the room where they’d have too much privacy for Tim’s comfort. 

“What are you doing here?” Other Bruce demanded, his voice low and dangerous. Tim was dealing with Batman wearing his people suit. 

Batman was dealing with Tim wearing his party face. “Oh Brucie!” he said loud enough to attract attention without being rude. “I’m so sorry about the worry I caused but I do tend to lose track of time without Tam there to manage my calendar.” He gave a laugh that was significantly less annoying than Other Bruce’s. 

The grip tightened punishingly before falling away so no one could see what lurked beneath Other Bruce’s. He put his hand in Tim’s hair and tousled it, destroying Tim’s styling. Passive aggressive but still a power move. “I’ve been so worried, son!” The smile was cold and empty. “The company has been such a mess with you gone.”

Yeah it was and Other Bruce could go fuck himself over it. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll have everything sorted soon.” You, not we. Other Bruce caught the word choice and narrowed his eyes. 

“Dick told me about the little display you put on with your friends,” Other Bruce’s voice was dark enough to snuff out a candle. “I don’t know what they did to you over there but I promise you I will fix it.”

Tim shivered. 

They had a plan. A solid plan. They had Cass on their side. They could do this. Tim wasn’t staying here. 

He pushed away from Other Bruce. “I’m not yours to fix anymore. If you’ve ever cared for me you will let me go, Bruce.”

Other Bruce grabbed Tim by the wrist and pulled it with the intention of dragging Tim to the door. Tim followed him for three panicked steps before realization hit. 

Tim was leaving. 

He was _l_ _eaving_.

He had no reason to play Other Bruce’s stupid little games. 

He stopped and planted his feet, Other Bruce giving a tug before realization that Tim had ceased to follow. He turned, his face agreeable but his eyes churning like a thunderstorm. Tim took a step into Other Bruce’s space and whispered in his ear. “You try to pull me out of here and I will cause the biggest scene you have ever had the pleasure of witnessing. Can Bruce Wayne afford that, especially when half of Gotham thinks you dumped me in the bottom of the bay? Can Batman afford that when he’s supposed to be in the middle of a League mission?”

  
  
Tim could feel his own intensity, prickling along his skin. “Because I can promise. I can scream and cry and show everyone the scars on my skin and walk out of this smelling like roses and essential oils but you will never recover. 

“Give me a reason,” Tim taunted, for once in his life feeling powerful in Other Bruce’s presence. “Give me a reason and I will show you just what you’ve made me into.”

Other Bruce let go of his wrist and Tim gave him a cheery smile. “I’ll catch up with you after the party,” Tim winked. “Oh, Mr. Grundenburg!” Tim glided off towards the oil baron, leaving a raging Bruce behind. 

That was how Tim spent the next hour, dancing from guest to guest, pretending that what they said had any bearing on his life. He faked his laughs, pretended to drink champagne, and kept an eye on Bart and Cass as they guarded the prize. Tim was amused to note that both of them had discarded their shoes in a show of eccentricity that would have people talking for the next month.

Tim snorted. It wasn’t Tim’s problem. None of this was Tim’s problem.

About halfway through the night, Lex took the floor, tapping on his flute to gather the attention of the room. “First off, I would like to thank everyone for coming tonight. Metropolis is a beautiful city, a veritable jewel of America, and it is up to us to ensure that she continues to shine. That is why I, personally, will be matching the total donation amount raised tonight.”

  
Okay, so that was not at all suspicious. No wonder the Justice League was snooping about. 

“Second, I would also like to welcome Timothy Wayne back from the dead. It is a relief to everyone in the room that such a rising star continues to shine so brightly.” Fuck you, Lex. 

“And finally, I would like to thank Superman for-”

  
  
A tearing sound split the air as the very walls shook, plaster falling down in chunks. Lex was wearing his patented ‘I have no idea what is going on and am therefore scared’ face that implied that this was indeed part of the show. Fake kidnapping?

Robots burst into the room, firing lasers that cut through absolutely everything. Tim ducked along with the rest of the screaming crowd and Lex let out a shout as one of the robots snagged him around the waist. Definitely a fake kidnapping. 

Clark burst into the room. 

As one, the robots focused on him, the lasers turning green. The robot that had Lex ran out of the room, stealing him/moving him to safety. A streak of red blurred in and people started vanishing from the room. 

Lex’s usual schtick. Tim didn’t need to hang around to see more. He did, however, have a different party to get to. 

He stood, diving over rubble so he could get to the exit he and Bart had agreed to meet at. The speedster was there, panty hose torn and a slit up the side of his dress so he had greater freedom of movement. Cass was there as well, looking like she was at a magazine shoot and not in a disaster zone.

“Got it?” Tim yelled over the noise.

“Fuck yeah!” Bart called back. He grabbed Tim by the arm, dragging him down the stars at a dizzying speed. Cass kept up by jumping down level by level. They burst into a back alley, a car waiting car ready to go.

  
  
They piled into the back seat.

  
  
“Got it?” Conner asked as they pulled into traffic. 

Bart pulled the statue out of his purse. “We are going home! This is totally crash!”

Tim whooped and Conner wore the biggest grin Tim had ever seen on him. The smile vanished as he took in Cass. “Who’s she?”

“A friend!” Tim’s grin was a little manic. Conner seemed content to leave it at that. 

They drove fast, definitely faster than was legal but there were no cops bothering to monitor traffic as Superman fought off yet another robot army and since everyone else had decided to get the hell out of Dodge, they made good timing to the warehouse. 

“Oh thank fuck!” Jay grinned as the party walked through the door. “Constantine keeps muttering at me.”

“That’s because you shouldn’t bloody exist!” Constantine stood naked in a large circle full of painted symbols. Even without the context Tim could recognize them as magical, but he had no idea what they said. The same designs wound their way up Constantine’s body and covered the walls of the warehouse. Tim wasn’t particularly sensitive to magic but this place felt electrified, as though lightening were about to hit. “You got it?”

Bart fished the statue out of his purse. 

“Who is she?” Dami asked bubbling with mistrust as he eyes up Cass. A knife appeared in his hand. 

“Everyone, Cass. Cass, everyone. She’s coming with us.” Eyebrows went up. “Don’t worry, she’s cool.” Tim could feel the skepticism pouring off Dami in waves heavy enough to drown in.

  
  
He’d get over it. 

“Alright. I’m freezing my arse off. Let’s get to it.” Constantine took the statue and sat in the middle of the circle, placing the statue in his lap. “You know who’s going through?” Bart raised his hand. He was the fastest. He could find Bruce the quickest so the man could get them the hell out of here. “Right, stand in that circle.”

Bart tore off his panty hose and scratched his calf before doing as ordered, wiggling his bare toes. “This floor is freezing.”

  
  
“Try sitting on it,” Constantine snapped. “Now, nobody move.”

The words that streamed out of Constantine’s mouth wove around the room like an ancient river, carving their way into reality. Tim couldn’t understand them but he felt the power in every syllable resonate in his bones. The candles set on the edge of the circle seemed to twist, their light being sucked towards where Bart was standing. Static crackled through the air as power swelled and for a moment it was as impossible to breathe as it had been with Jason’s hands wrapped around his neck. 

The pressure burst, like a cloud giving way into a storm, and then Bart was gone. 

Everyone stood there for a moment in silence. “Did that..work?” Jay asked hesitantly. 

Constantine scoffed. “Course it worked. He ain’t bloody here anymore, is he?” The Brit wandered off to a corner. “Freezing my bloody bits.”

Conner crossed his arms. “How long do you think it’s going to take Batman to get here?”

Tim shrugged. “Half hour, tops. Bart needs to find him, he needs to grab his doohickey, and I think he needs to be in this spot in that universe in order to warp directly to us. That gives us plenty of time.”

There was the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor and every jolted, spotting Constantine half dressed and unconscious. 

Future Evil Tim stepped out of the shadows. “That gives us plenty of time indeed.”

Tim froze, even his blood stopping for a moment, as the Future Evil Tim, Kon, and M’gann stepped out of the shadows.

“You aren’t limping,” his brain latched onto the fact as though it was what was important. 

Future Evil Tim gave a casual smile. “If I can invent time travel, tissue regeneration is certainly no large feat.” 

Conner growled as the Team fell into fighting stances. Cass followed suit, a deadly gleam in her eyes. 

Future Evil Tim held up his hands in surrender. “I’m just here to talk.”

“You mean monologue like a psycho,” Jay snapped. Future Evil Tim gave him an exasperated look. 

“I really had forgotten how troublesome children can be. You are all so righteous and so stubborn. It really is a terrible combination.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tim,’ he lower his hands as he tried to appeal to his younger self. “The reason we started to kill was because everyone died. Everyone. Bruce, Gordon, Alfred, Barbara, Cass. We lost the entire family. If you leave those events are still going to happen, but there won’t be anyone to pick up the pieces. But if you start making the hard choices now you can avert everything.”

Shut up. That wasn’t how this worked. The Titans came back because everything was changing. Tim being gone would make everything different, everything better. 

“You’ve come close. You’ve come so close,” Future Evil Tim took a step forward. “You know exactly what’s on the other side of that ledge. Just...let yourself fall. It makes everything better, not just for you but for the world.”

“I give you two out of ten. That was definitely not the best villainous speech I’ve ever heard in my life,” Jay said mockingly. 

“I’ll give him a three,” Conner said, “for the imagery.”

Cass nodded. “Bad speech.”

  
  
“I shall give him a wound that shall not heal,” Dami snapped. 

Tim truly loved his Team. He opened his mouth to tell Future Evil Tim to fuck off when a chunk of the warehouse roof exploded. Clark and Other Bruce descended through the hole while Wally zipped in from the far door. 

The speedster took a quick look around the room, his eyes slitting from Constantine, the occult symbols, Tim and Future Evil Tim. “Did Constantine just summon demonic Tim?”

Other Bruce narrowed his eyes. “Time travel.”

  
  
“Indeed,” Future Evil Tim said congenially. “It’s a pleasure to see you alive, Bruce.”

“Nope,” Tim made a crossing motion as he shook his head. “Nope nope nope. No bonding. He,” Tim pointed at Future Evil Tim. “is a fascist if the guns didn’t tip you off. He,” Tim pointed at Other Bruce “is an ass, if the army of maladjusted orphans didn’t tip you off.” He pointed at himself. “And I am leaving.”

“Tim,” Clark said in his ‘I’m Superman and therefore reasonable’ voice. “You’ve been through a lot and it would make everyone feel better to ensure that you are acting under your own power.” 

Tim sneered. “You mean you think I’m compromised and you’re going to dig through me so you can route it out.” Clark at least had the decency to blush. “You can all fuck off. I’m not staying. I’m not killing anyone. Go away.”

Bruce pulled out same batarangs. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

“Excuse me,” Future Evil Tim said, tapping his guns, “but Tim and I were having a conversation.”

“Consider it over.”

Future Evil M’gann placed herself between the Leaguers and Tim. That...was not good.

Light flared and there was the smell of burnt air. Tim blinked away the spots in his eyes. On the far side of the room, the same side as the Leaguers, stood in full costume, Bruce, Dick, and Captain Marvel. 

Bruce gave the most terrifying Batglare that Tim had ever seen. “Back away from my sons,” he said in the voice that made Gotham city herself tremble. 

The Leaguers paused to look at the new arrivals, studying them suspiciously. “May I just say for the record that none of this is good?” Wally piped up. 

Other Batman threw the batarangs. 

M’gann hit Wally with a blast of power, sending the speedster flying. Other Bruce lunged at Bruce while Captain Marvel took a swing at Superman. Dick swung his escrima sticks at Other Bruce’s face, joining his father in the fight. Cass launched herself over M’gann, slamming her knee into the back of the alien’s neck. Tim looked for an opening, so he could dive into the fray, but wind gusted at his back and a familiar voice started to curse. 

Dami. 

Tim spun around to find Dami, his little brother, dangling in the air, held up by nothing more than Future Evil Kon’s telekinesis. The boy was splayed, hands out by his side, as though he was dangling from an invisible cross. 

“Dami!” Jay screamed, lunging towards the Kryptonian. Future Evil Bart joined the fight, body checking the boy, the blow tossing him backwards where he slammed into Conner. They both kept flying until they hit the warehouse wall. Conner struggled to his feet. 

Jay didn’t move

“No!” Tim yelled. Oh god, Jay stand!

Future Tim shook his head. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. As you are now you can’t save everyone.” He walked over to Tim casually, like they were old friends. “But’s what I’m here for. I’m here to teach you.”

  
  
“And how the fuck does killing Dami achieve that?” Tim asked, his voice calm but his mind hysterical.

Future Evil Tim put a comforting hand on Tim’s arm, sliding it up to his shoulder as he circled around his younger self. “It’s not Dami you have to kill. But don’t worry. I’ve made this easy on you.”

Future Evil Cassie dropped from the ceiling. The purple bundle she was carrying was flipped off of Future Evil Cassie’s shoulders to down by her knees. Future Evil Cassie pulled aside the cloak and grabbed the raven hair, pulling a woman’s head back so Tim could get a clear view of her face. 

It was the Daughter of Acheron. 

Tim leaned over and threw up, Future Evil Tim’s hands bracing his shoulders. “Sh. It’s okay. I know this is hard but it’s going to be better. You’ll see.”

“I ca-, I can’t-” It was dark and she was tugging at his clothes, whispering his ear, far too close, about life and death and how they circle while Promise just watched. He couldn’t get away, couldn’t fight. He was scared, scared in a way he wasn’t of death.

“It’s okay, Tim,” Future Evil Tim whispered. “She can’t hurt you. Just breathe.” 

  
Tim gasped great shaking breaths, his head clearing though nightmares still floated at the edge. 

“There we go,” said Future Evil Tim sympathetically. “I know the nightmares are hard, but this will stop them. I promise you’ll sleep better after this.”

Tim swallowed. “I don’t kill.”

  
  
Dami screamed. 

“No!” Tim shouted and tried to lunge forward, but Future Evil Tim had a grasp around his waist. He pulled Tim back against his chest, his hushings the only thing cutting the heavy silence. 

At Dami’s scream the fighting had stopped.

“You have a choice, Tim. Save the boy, or don’t.” A gun was pressed into Tim’s hand, Future Evil Tim bracing Tim’s arm with his own, curling his hand over Tim’s. “It’s not hard.”

Tim gasped. “It’s not a hard choice, Tim," Future Evil Tim crooned. "Dami’s so vulnerable and he’s so very loved. Would you do that? Would you let Bruce’s blood son die because of your bullheaded nature? You can save him. All you have to do is pull the trigger.”

  
“Tim! Don’t!” It was an order, but Tim didn’t know from which Bruce. He was shaking apart. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t become the man behind him. 

“And she? She’s a bad person, Tim. She almost raped you. You’ve never said that out loud, have you, but that’s what she was going to do, Tim. She was going to rape us.” Tim couldn’t help the sobs being drawn out of his body. That was a secret. People weren’t supposed to know. Bruce wasn’t supposed to know. “Then she was going to murder us, to leave our body down in the catacombs where only the rats would find us.”

  
“Stop,” Tim whispered brokenly. 

“You’re the one who makes it stop, Tim.”

  
  
Future Evil Tim guided Tim’s arm so the shot would line up with her head. She twisted futilely in Future Evil Cassie’s grip, sneering as her eyes glowed black. 

Tim jerked his arm out of Future Evil Tim’s grasp, bringing the barrell up to under his own chin. 

“No!” Bruce. Tim wanted to say this was okay. This was the best way. 

Future Evil Tim just sighed. “I always forget how badly we hurt at this age.” He wrapped his hand around Tim as though he was giving him a hug. “Think this through, Tim. You’ve done too much time twisting. If you die, no one sends Bart back. Everyone dies Tim. Everyone in the universe we love the most. Bart would be scrapped. Vivisected as child before being murdered. This isn’t a solution.”

Tim’s chest heaved, every breath acid. God, he was right. Tim couldn’t risk it. Tim couldn’t risk Dami. Tim couldn’t kill her. 

Tim couldn’t.

No. Janet’s son didn’t focus on what he couldn’t do. He focused on what he could. 

Tim shifted the gun by an inch and pulled the trigger. 

“NO!” Future Evil Kon screamed, slinging Dami to the side like a dirty shirt. It was too late for him to do anything. The bullet would have gone through the chin, into the brain and out the skull, but the cowl was bullet proof which meant the bullet would bounce back, tearing through the cerebral tissue again. Like a whisk through meringue.

Future Evil Tim was dead before his arms let go of Tim. 

He didn’t make a sound as he fell. He didn’t even hit the floor. All of the Future Evil Titans faded away, echoes of a future that could now never be, leaving the warehouse full of horrified onlookers and Tim in the centre, holding a gun. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rant- lead walls don't block superhearing. White noise generators, my friends. Please don't make this mistake
> 
> Also-im okay. I was sick and used all that time to write. I'm good now. I just like publishing.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all bullet wounds bleed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate sitting on chapters so without further ado.

Dick had once read about a room that was so quiet that it sucked sound from the very air. If you screamed nothing would be heard coming out of your mouth. It was just you, your thoughts, and the pulse of blood in your ears. 

That was the warehouse right now. 

No one moved. No one breathed. They stood frozen in the aftermath of the gunshot.

The Daughter of Acheron stood, her robes whispering against the floor. She laughed. It was a silky, sultry sound that made Dick see red. 

“This,” she purred, “is why you are worthy of my gift. This is why our child shall-”

A red blur, the sound of a slap and skin on tin. Those were the impressions Dick picked up and it was only after that his brain was able to put the scene together. Captain Marvel stood, his hand still in the position of a follow through, and the woman lay in a crumpled pile. 

She deserved worse. She deserved to have every bone in her body broken for what she intended to do to Tim, for what she succeeded in doing to Tim. 

Captain Marvel turned to the Leaguers. “We’re taking Tim.” Darn right they were. Dick was definitely carrying kryptonite and Conner would get over it if he was caught in the crossfire. He was pretty fond of Tim.

  
  
“Hold on,” Clark said, raising his hands as though that made him any less of a threat. “You can’t just take him.”

Um. Yes, they could. Also, they totally were.

“Let them have him.”

“Um, Batman?” asked the Flash dude, his confusion echoed in Clark’s face. 

Bruce Number Two said, “Tim’s a murderer and he’s already working against us.” Okay, screw you. “It’s only a matter of time before he becomes the next Luthor.” There was so much wrong with that statement but the thing that bothered Dick the most was that no, Tim would not become the next Luthor. If Tim went evil, as though that were possible, he’d kick Luthor’s butt any day of the week. “We don’t need two of them to deal with.” 

“He’s not beyond saving,” Clark urged.

Tim didn’t need to be saved. He’d never needed to be saved. He’d needed to be loved.

Bruce Number Two stilled like a gargoyle, fury set in stone. “He’s worked with Ra’s Al Ghul. He tried to murder Captain Boomerang. He’s gone over the edge and he’s never going to truly come back.” He twisted to look Bruce dead in the eye. “Take him, if you still want him.” 

Dick bit back a snort. As though they needed this jerkwad’s blessing. 

Bruce walked up to Bruce Number Two, studying the man’s face. They looked a mirror come to life, exact reflections. He telegraphed nothing, his form perfect as his arm flew, smashing right into Bruce Number Two’s jaw. Internally, Dick cheered. His suit came with a camera. That footage was going to be his best treasure. “You don’t fucking talk about my son that way.”

Bruce Number Two snarled and jumped to his feet, fists raised, but Clark put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go, Batman.” 

Bruce Number Two shrugged the hand off. He glared at Bruce before turning, flaring his cape like a dramatic villain. “Cass, come!” he ordered, like she was a dog that should heel.

“No,” said the asian girl. Dick had no idea who she was. Well, now he knew that she went by Cass. And that she had dived into his side on the fight. She was good. Really good. Scarily good.    


  
Bruce Number Two turned to look at her, wearing fury as surely as he wore a cape. “Come now.”

“You’re a liar,” Cass hissed. “I? Not a soldier. Stay with Tim.” Oh crap. Another one of Bruce Number Two’s kids that he’d messed up. His gaze flicked to Bruce and he could already tell that the man was drawing up adoption papers. 

Bruce Number Two turned away in ominous silence, like a bond villain or something, and he shot a grappling hook and disappeared through the hole in the roof. Clark scanned the room again, dissatisfaction scrawled across his face, but he also floated through the hole he’d made, vanishing into the night. 

“Look,” the Flash guy said as he rubbed his neck, “this entire night has been awkward and not really what I was supposed to be doing, but I’m going to stick around for a bit.” Bruce stilled and the Flash guy took a step back. “Not to pull anything!” He waved his hands so fast they blurred. “It’s just Constantine’s over there and then we need to deal with the creepy rapey lady and I don’t think you all want to stick around for that!” he explained in a rush. 

Huh. He sort of reminded Dick of Wally. 

“Don’t interfere,” Bruce ordered, the leather of his gloves creaking ominously. 

The Flash guy swallowed nervously. “I’m just gonna.” He pointed at Constantine before jogging over to the man. 

The moment the Flash guy moved Dick dashed towards where Dami was lying on the floor. He moved to gently roll the boy but the moment he touched Dami a knife whistled down and it was only the instincts of an acrobat that saved Dick from being stabbed in the thigh.    
  


“Easy, little D,” Dick whispered. “Just checking to see how bad you’re hurt.”   
  


“My pride has been wounded,” Dami snapped. “I must avenge myself.”

Dick put a hand in Dami’s hair, holding him down. “Yeah, you missed that part of the party.” The boy growled in displeasure and made no move to shift. He didn’t jerk away from Dick’s hands as he checked for injuries, but there was definite wincing when he touched the joints. Strains but no dislocations. 

“Jay’s likely concussed,” Conner called, “but nothing’s broken.”

Dick smiled in relief. “Everyone’s fine then. That’s great. Let’s go home.” He stood, lifting a grouchy Dami into his arms. Despite all his grousing Dami leaned into Dick’s grip, clutching his shoulders with a sigh. “Come on, Tim,” Dick called. “Let’s go home.” He turned. 

Tim was still standing in the center of the warehouse, gun in his hand.    
  


Oh no. Okay. Everyone was not okay. 

Bruce stopped fiddling with his interdimensional transport disk and his eyes lasered in on his son. “Tim?” he called. Tim didn’t so much as flinch. 

No no no. Tim had to be okay. They’d found him! He had to be okay!

Dick held his breath as Bruce slowly approached Tim like he was a feral cat, but Tim didn’t even act like he knew anyone was there. “Hey Tim, hey champ. It’s okay now,” Bruce soothed. He slowly reached across Tim. “I’m just going to take this now, okay Tim?” Bruce put his hand on the barrel of the gun. 

Tim jerked as though he’d been electrocuted, falling backwards. “I’m sorry!” he gasped, burying his face in his knees and covering his head with his hands. The hands that still held the gun.    
  
Dick held his breath. 

“It’s okay. Shh, it’s okay,” Bruce promised softly over Tim’s deluge of apologies. 

“I’m sorry!” Tim was sobbing, his breath catching, and Dick wanted to tear that gun from Tim’s hands because his little brother didn’t need to be holding that when he went into a full blown panic attack.    
  


Bruce had the same thought and grabbed the weapon, pointing it up and flicking the safety on. He slammed a nerve cluster in Tim’s wrist, Dick winced in sympathy, but it made Tim’s hand flop and Bruce pulled the gun out of it easily enough. 

The moment the weapon was gone he pulled Tim in his lap and started to kiss his forehead. “You’re safe,” Bruce assured him.

Tim shook violently from side to side. “Jay, Dami!”    
  


“They’re okay too,” Bruce said as he rocked Tim back and worth.

“Hate me. My fault!” Tim gasped and Dick felt his heart shatter. He’d hoped that Tim would be okay here, that having his friends, his brothers, would protect him from the worst of this world, but nothing ever seemed to go Tim’s way.

“I could never hate you,” Bruce said with the same conviction that he told Dick he loved him with. It seemed to penetrate the haze Tim was in.

“I killed him.”

Bruce stood, lifting Tim in his arms and continuing to rock the boy. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from that.”

  
  
“I’m a monster.”   


  
“No!” Dick joined in, carrying Dami over. “We love you, Tim. It’s going to be okay.”

The girl, Cass, joined them. She grabbed Tim’s hand. “Not monster. I’d know.” That seemed to cut through deeper than their assurances had. They were obviously close. “Go home now,” she said quietly. “Promised.”

Tim inhaled. It was shaky but controlled. Deliberate. “Yeah. Okay.” Tim rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, I can stand.”

  
  
“I know you can,” Bruce said matter of factly. He made no move to put Tim down. 

“Wow,” said Flash guy. “You’re like a real person.” Everyone in the room turned to glare at him. “I just mean that you have feelings and stuff. Everyone’s going to be worried about you coming by and stealing all of Batman’s kids but you really love them, don’t you?” Flash guy gave a soft smile. “I actually think I feel better that Tim’s with you and not Batman.” His eyes widened in panic. “But don’t tell anyone I said that!”

That was… surprising. Maybe not everyone in this universe was a prick. 

Captain Marvel chuckled. “I don’t think we plan on talking to anyone else here.”

“Bloody fucking hell,” came an angry snap. “Bloody fucking capes. Last bloody time I work for them.” Constantine sat up, jerking out of Flash guy’s hands when he tried to assist. He looked over at the scene, taking in the damage to the warehouse, and snarled. “Next time anyone wants to ask me for help, don’t.” He started putting on his shirt. “Don’t get paid enough for this shite.”

That was probably their cue to leave. Bruce set Tim down so his feet touched the floor but kept the boy secure in one arm. “Everyone, grab hold of each other.” Dick grabbed the back of Bruce’s neck, keeping Dami snug in his arms. He felt hands on his back as everyone drew in tight, determined to not be left in this twisted funhouse of a universe. 

Everything flashed. 

X-x-x-x-x-x-x 

Tim froze in panic. He wanted to open his but he was terrified of what he would see. If there would be skulls and candles and shadows to match the warm bodies leaned up against his. He tried to slow his breathing, to calm down, but it felt like he was drowning in memories and the scent of flesh and he couldn’t escape. 

A pillow smacked into his face. “Stawp it,” Jay slurred sleepily. “Can hear you hyperventilating from here.” The pillow smacked Tim again. “No panic attacks while ‘m sleeping off a concussion. 

“Don’t be mean to Tim,” Dick as he yawned. Braced against Tim’s other Dick buried his nose into Tim’s neck. 

On his chest Dami gave a light growl but didn’t wake up. 

That’s right. They were back in the Manor. Bruce and Alfred had looked them over, shoving hot cocoa into their hands and keeping the softest blankets in the Manor wrapped over their shoulders. Conner and Bart had been shuffled back to the Mountain to give reports on what had to have been the longest and most convoluted rescue mission of all time, while the Wayne children had been stuffed into a single room and were ordered to not get kidnapped. 

Except Cass. Apparently, in the five minutes Alfred had known her, she’d already been labelled as more sensible than all the boys put together so Alred was giving her a tour to let her pick out and decorate a room. 

Jay was still pretty out of it, but apparently his thumb drive contained far more than just books so they’d piled onto the bed and watched movies and their alternate versions, critiquing both. Jay laid there with a cloth over his eyes and listened, only chirping out when a piece of dialogue was ‘egregiously written.’    
  


He spent a lot of the movies talking.

Tim glanced up, the TV’s nature scenes screensaver currently portraying a desert with a lone tree. It was weird timing, as that was how Tim used to think of himself. Alone in a harsh terrain, living where he should have died and standing tall.    


  
But that had never really been the case. He’d been surviving the desolation, wilting away under his own mistakes and the expectations of others. But maybe it was Tim’s fault. Maybe he’d chosen his own terrain. Maybe if Tim had been a better son-

A pillow smacked Tim in the face. “Thinkin’ too loud,” Jay complained. “And probably somethin’ stupid.”   
  
Tim smiled. “Sorry, Jay.”

A soft snore answered him. 

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Tim stood at Bruce’s office door, hand poised to knock. He lowered it, took three steps back, paused, walked back to the door and raised his hand again. He’d been caught in that cycle for maybe the past hour or so, trapped between wanting to talk to Bruce and never wanting to talk to another human being again. 

He lowered his just to find that he’d looped again and was standing, ready to knock. 

Biting his lip Tim tried to muster his courage. 

The door opened and Bruce barrelled into Tim, knocking him down and sending the papers flying. 

  
  
“Oh, shit! I mean shoot! I mean, sorry Lucius, I’ll have to call you back.” Bruce hung up his phone and pulled Tim up from the floor. “I’m so sorry, Tim. I was distracted. Are you alright?”

Tim flushed “Yeah, I’m fine.” Well, that was not how he wanted this to go. 

“Ah,” Bruce said chidingly. “We don’t use the f-word in this house.” Alfred had a jar somewhere and Tim had to drop in a penny every time he said it. Every time he added a new penny someone in the house freaked out. Cass had taken to the custom like a duck to water and was the fastest to point out if he used that word.    


  
Tim gave an exasperated sigh. “I am currently unharmed.”

Bruce gave an approving nod and Tim couldn’t tell if he was hamming it up or if it was sincere. At least he didn’t make Tim add a penny. “Good.” Bruce bent over to start picking up his papers and Tim blushed a little deeper. 

“I’m sorry for interrupting your phone call.”   


  
“Tim,” Bruce put a hand on Tim’s shoulder and made sure they had direct eye contact, “never apologize for rescuing me quarterly reports.”

“Those are the worst,” Tim agreed and he saw the surprise flit across Bruce’s face. The man sometimes forgot that Tim had been the CEO of his company. 

“Now, what brings you to my office?”

Tim shook his head. “Nothing. It wasn’t important.” It was stupid. 

“Tim, it was important because you’re important.” Bruce kept saying stuff like that and Tim wasn’t sure how to take it. Like, Tim had shot someone point blank in front of Bruce and Bruce acted like Tim was the one who had taken a bullet wound. He’d slammed Tim into more therapy with Dinah so fast it had made Tim’s head spin and had plied the boy with Wayne R&D reports and mystery novels. 

It was weird.

It was also kinda nice. 

But mostly weird. 

“I just…” Tim had scripted this conversation out a million times and it always just felt like it was the wrong thing to say.

Bruce grabbed Tim by the hand and led him into the office, settling Tim into a chair and dropping the papers on the desk. Instead of taking the chair on the opposite side, Bruce sat in the chair closest. He hunched over, focusing all of his attention on Tim. But it was Bruce’s attention, not Batman’s, and Tim felt something inside unknot. 

“Jay said you weren’t going to let any of us be Robin.”

  
  
Bruce puffed out his cheeks and let out a breath. “I was supposed to be the one to tell you that.” 

“There were extenuating circumstances!” Tim said, quick to defend Jay. Stupid, he didn’t want to get Jay in trouble.

“I’m not mad, Tim.” Bruce sighed. “I suppose you want to know my train of thought?”

Tim nodded, biting his lip nervously.

“You’re children,” Bruce said bluntly. “You aren’t old enough to understand the risks and you certainly don’t have the coping mechanisms in place to handle the trauma that comes with this life.”

  
  
“I do-”   


  
Bruce held up a hand, silencing Tim. “I should never have let Dick out into the field when I did. We were lucky that nothing happened to him. With Jay.” Bruce shuddered and Tim could see the ghosts that lurked in his eyes. “What happened there was the natural conclusion of sending children to war.”   


  
He looked directly at Tim. “I promised myself that there would never be a child hero attached to the Bat name again. I was willing to train, but anyone who trained under me had to wait until they were old enough to drink to actually go out and fight.”

Tim tilted his head. “Oh. So you want me to pick a new identity?”

Bruce looked at the ceiling and Tim could tell he missed the point. “I want you to be a kid, Tim. You’re sixteen. You should be getting your driver’s license, going to football games, dating.” Tim managed to not wiggle at that last one. He didn’t know what he had with Conner, it was too fragile to put a name to, but maybe?

“What about the Team?”

“You can still visit them,” Bruce promised. “You can help with strategy. I’ll even let you help solve one of my cases on occasion, but I’m not letting you into the field until you’re older.”

Tim blinked, still feeling unsure. “But what do I do in the meantime?”

Bruce looked down. “What do you want to do?”

“I was made to be useful.”

Bruce frowned. “You weren’t made, Tim. You were born, and you were born to be loved.”

  
  
Tim opened his mouth, no words coming out, but he could feel the tears rolling down his. “I wasn’t. I-”

  
  
Bruce clapped a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “I’m Batman. I know everything. You were born to be loved.”

  
  
“Bruce,” Tim said, a hitch in his breath.

Bruce grabbed Tim’s other shoulder and slowly pulled the teen into a gentle hug. “If you don’t know what you want to do right now, that’s okay. We’ll figure it out one day at a time. You, me, your siblings, Alfred. We’re all in this together and we all support each other. You can always count on us Tim.”

By then Tim was heaving gian wet sobs, making a mess of Bruce’s shirt but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t force himself to leave the comfort of Bruce’s arms.    
  
“Now,” Bruce asked, “you’re going to pick one thing today. One thing you want or want to do and I will make time and we will do this together.”

With Other Bruce this would have been a trap, would have been a test. This wasn’t Other Bruce. This was Bruce. Tim should be able to trust him. 

He braced himself for disappointment. “I want a cat.”

He felt Bruce nod. “The tomorrow we will get you a cat.”

Tim clutched Bruce and wept. When his tears had faded to hiccups he pushed Bruce away and the man let him, though Bruce tusselled his hair. 

“There is one thing I need from you though.”

  
  
Tim stiffened. Conditions. He should have expected conditions. 

  
  
Bruce slid off of his chair to kneel in front of Tim. He took both of the boys' hands. “I need you to know that I love you because you are my son, that I love you just as much as your brothers, and that if you ever chose to, I would be honored if you called me dad. You don’t have to. The boundaries are yours to set. But I want you to know that the option will always be there.”

Tim didn’t say anything. He couldn’t say anything, but that seemed to be enough of a response for Bruce. He straightened up and smiled at Tim. “Now,” he clapped his hands together, “I have nerf guns in the closet and Jay’s been cleared for regular activity. You and me versus everyone. What do you say, champ?”   
  
“I say Cass is going to kick both our asses.” Bruce looked dismayed. “But I’m still in.”

“Excellent!” Bruce strode off and Tim watched him for a moment.

Huh. 

  
  
Dad. 

A small smile danced across Tim’s lips. 

Maybe someday he’d take Bruce up on that. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been a wild ride. 
> 
> I know people are gonna be sad that there wasn't a second confrontation with the Titans or Grayson, but when you have friends who encourage you to go back to your abusers then dropping them like a hot potato is a great idea because you are never going to find closure. Abusive people can't be talked into realizing that they are abusive. 
> 
> Also, the key to great art is specificity. Take what you have and cut it down to what you need. Then take that and cut it down some more. It's a pain to do and heart breaking because all the ideas, but it's important as well. 
> 
> I'll probably do a bunch more one shots and I don't know if I will do another big multi chapter. Definite maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so the next chapter is mostly done and it really jumps things forward. Will publish when I can.


End file.
